Dessert
By Caitlin Orr

 

“Here, Puppy! Come here, boy,” Humbert called to a matted-looking dog sprawled on the floor as he was setting out canned tomatoes, microwave dinners, and several pre-made Jell-O packs on the table.

“Did you miss me? Because I missed you.  Look what I brought for you,” Humbert cooed as he snatched up a tin that held post-dated spam. “It was on sale.” Humbert smiled as he continued to shelve away his groceries.

Humbert was a retired baker on a good day.  On a bad day he was a spiller of milk.  At eighty-nine, he seemed happy just to get himself down the street and on a bus to the supermarket.  Of course, those were the days when he had read the schedules right.  There had been more than one occasion when Humbert had gone out to wait for a Monday bus on a Saturday or forgotten about a holiday and sat for an hour, idly reading his newspaper. 

Besides his trips to the grocery store, the rest of his days were occupied with frequent trips to the bathroom, dates with cable, and his cocker spaniel named Puppy.  Puppy was now getting on into his forty-ninth dog year.  He’d had a golden coat at one time, but now looked more like a disheveled, moving sock.  Humbert always greeted Puppy immediately on his return from an outing.  If Humbert was ever going to be away for more than four hours, he would take Puppy along with him.  Puppy would hobble around, trudging at the same pace as his master, one precious step at a time. Humbert would shuffle to their destination, while Puppy would get tugged along at the end of a withered leather leash. Humbert sometimes had to slow his pace to a crawl in order to catch his breath on windy days, which would allow Puppy extra time to inch closer to Humbert’s shoes.  Down the streets they would go, to the bus stop where Humbert would sit down, and Puppy would usually urinate on the bench.

At home, Puppy would also urinate on objects.  Humbert concluded that Puppy must be deaf; “I’ve told that dog a hundred times not to make wet on my slippers!” Humbert would yell into his house. Humbert would call out, often, to Puppy:

“Puppy! Look what’s on TV.  Here, boy.”

“Puppy, I don’t know about this weather.”

“Puppy, why don’t you use the litter box I bought for you?”

In the evenings, Humbert would holler:

“Puppy! It’s time for dinner.  Here, Puppy.  You’re such a good boy.” Humbert would lay out dog food in the corner of the kitchen. Sometimes Humbert would cook up a special meal for Puppy consisting of eggs, bacon and grease. It would heat for a bit on the stove before Humbert would pour it sloppily into Puppy’s bowl straight from the pan. 

Humbert would often spill a lot of the bacon grease down the side of the cupboard as he called for Puppy.  Puppy would hobble over and lick the side cupboard before chowing down on his meal. 

“I made this especially for you, just like in the old days at the bakery!” Humbert would explain, as he reached his hand out to pet Puppy, but he could bend only so far, and so he would pet the space above his dog’s head.
Humbert would watch Puppy munch while he sat on his chair at the small fold-out table, waiting for the microwave to produce his meal.  Sometimes he’d eat up his TV dinner with the same fork he had used to make Puppy’s supper, and then stand perplexed when he went to wash the dishes, but found only one utensil.          

One day in early winter Humbert was browsing through a newspaper left on the bus, as he usually did, when his eyes suddenly widened at the bust of an attractive woman. This scantily clad figure held the message that could change his life between her legs: “Come inside and keep warm with our special ‘Swedish Massage’. Winter is on its way and so should you be. Lady’s Ladies available to make your winter wishes come true.” The advertisement gave the address, phone number, and a little asterisk which led Humbert’s eyes to a charming reminder: “Don’t forget you guests over 66. Come in-between noon and three and we’ll give you a half-price rubdown.”

Humbert quickly glanced up. He opened the paper to the ad once more and lingered there with his eyes transfixed on the picture.  Someone stood up and moved towards the back of the bus closer to Humbert and he quickly shut the newspaper and put it down next to him, nonchalantly.  Several minutes went by before Humbert tip-toed his fingers back to the newspaper and slyly guided it into his grocery bag; a content smile spread on his face as it settled down next to some half-price day-old muffins.

When Humbert got home from his errands that day, he meticulously folded out the newspaper and found some scissors which he used to delicately cut out Lady’s ad.  His fingers shook slightly, but after ten minutes, he was able to lay a perfectly-cut square ad on the table.  He stared at it while Puppy went to urinate on the grocery bags; Humbert didn’t notice. He reluctantly hung his head and went to the cutlery drawer, put the ad inside there, and closed it, slowly letting out a deep breath. 

He walked over to the fridge and got out a small, plastic, snack-sized cup of Jell-O, which he placed on the table. He turned to the cupboard and got a doggy cookie which he went to give to Puppy, who was now sniffing his urine on the grocery bags.

“Puppy! What did I tell you? I can’t eat this food now that you’ve spilled yourself all over it….” Humbert looked into the bags of groceries and grumbled; he threw the biscuit over into the corner away from the soggy bags and walked to the sink to get a rag.  After cleaning up most of the mess by dropping the towel on the floor and swishing it a few times with his foot, he sat down in front of his Jell-O.  Soon, he had to get back up again to go to the cupboard and get a spoon.  His eyes opened, like they had on the bus, when he saw the ad again. 

Humbert stood in front of the open drawer for a few minutes.  He looked over his sink, which was decorated with random utensils and bowls, all of mismatching beige shades. His eyes glossed over the fridge and to the pantry, which was left a little open, as always, full of all sorts of stale breads and biscuits.  Humbert’s eyes continued to scan the apartment and wound up looking into the window above the faucets where his gaze met his reflection.  Humbert stared at himself for several moments until he was interrupted by a small moaning noise coming from his left.  Puppy was dragging himself towards Humbert’s legs, leaving behind crumbles of his biscuit and a small wet puddle.

“Puppy.  Dinner is postponed until further notice,” Humbert said as he held the ad between his fingers. He put it on the fridge with a magnet next to a child’s drawing of a Christmas tree with a scribbled note, “Merry Christmas Grandpa!” Humbert left his Jell-O on the table and looked over to his dog. “Dessert will have to wait as well.”

He went over to his bedroom, shifted to the back of his closet, and pulled out an old, crumpled suit.  Humbert gave a little “humph” and placed the set of clothes on the bed.  Next, he walked to the kitchen again and tried to bend over to get the little foot stool, but couldn’t bend enough, so he just kicked it along to the bedroom. With the footstool at the base of the closet, Humbert held his arms out to keep himself balanced as he searched the top of the shelf. Standing on top of the bench, he finally reached to the back.  Dragging his arms out, he coughed from some dust as he put a shoe box on the bed. 

Once the tattered leather shoes were sitting politely on the bed, Humbert took another twenty minutes at the dresser, finally turning around with a pair of old-fashioned cufflinks, which he laid on top of his bed with the other things.
Humbert smiled at the items lying before him and did a little rearranging of certain clothes' positions before he let out a satisfied sigh.

He went into the kitchen and walked over to the phone, where he pulled at the cord so the receiver was nearest the fridge, and dialed as he squinted, inches away from the ad he had just put up.

“Yes, yes. Hello?” Humbert said into the receiver, coughing and straightening himself up. “Umm. Well, I’ve just found this ad in the paper and I would…..” Humbert waited a minute or so. “No, just for one time.”

Puppy sat at the doorway of the kitchen and lifted his leg again in the corner of the door.

“Puppy! Don’t do that. Get down!” Humbert hissed across the room, “What did you just ask, is that what I call what? No, no.  I wasn’t talking about that.” Humbert blushed and twisted the cord around one of his fingers; it looked like a boa constrictor choking a slug. “Oh. I don’t know. Anyone will be fine.” Humbert continued fiddling with the cord. He had it wrapped around three fingers and part of his wrist.

“No. I’m not on any heart medication,” Humbert said into the receiver as he began to pace in front of the fridge, able to go only so far before the shortened cord brought him back in the other direction.

“Yes, I’ll bring cash.  How much will that be, with the coupon?  All right. Yes, thankyouverymuch.” Humbert hung up quickly and let out a deep breath. “I think I sounded quite calm and relaxed, don’t you, Puppy? Don’t look at me that way,” Humbert said as he slowly tried to untangle himself from the cord’s trap.  “Okay, okay. You can come, too.  I’m sure someone there won’t mind looking after you.”

Puppy sniffed his newly marked doorway.

Humbert looked over at the table where his Jell-O still sat.  He looked at Puppy and smiled.  Humbert walked over to the cupboard, picked up a spoon, turned to his dog and said, “I’m ready for my dessert now.”