Intermission I-Three Weeks Later

Saturday, October 28th 07:45:31

Three weeks had past, Caleb and Hope had settled into a normal routine of daily walks, games and all the other sundry things pets and their owners do. Through copious amounts of puppy chow and table scraps, Hope quickly grew out of her undernourished appearance and by late Friday had hit nearly 45 lbs, twice her found size, astounding Caleb, but not as much as Hope’s understanding of commands. He could swear that Hope could understand the actual things he was saying, rather than just the tone.

Walking Hope through cool, fog-touched streets over to the Plaza, Caleb spots several other pet owners and some more motivated walkers, joggers, and runners. They do two circuits around the plaza before Hope decides on the right lamp post and does her business. While waiting for her to finish, Caleb looks around and sees a black car parked across the plaza with two people sitting inside, a dark-haired thin man about his age and a slightly older Hispanic woman in the passenger seat. The woman was holding up a wand-like device and waving it out the window.

“Huh, what the hell is that lady doing…testing the air for something? What's that, Hope? You’re done? Good girl, let's head back. Gonna fire up the smoker for the party tonight.” Hope barks happily and they walk back to the house.

Safely ensconced at home, Caleb pours Hope an oversized bowl of food and gives her a treat before heading out to the patio and firing up the smoker, a converted filing cabinet he’d “rescued” from a previous job.

Heading back inside while the smoker got up to temperature, he pulls a five pound brisket and three pounds of hot-links out of the fridge, instantly gaining the attention of Hope who has again cleared her bowl with frightening aplomb. Rubbing the meat down with spices and seasonings, he looks down at the snout trying to finagle its way onto the counter.

“Lord, if I hadn't seen you grow, I'd wonder where you put it all. This ain't for you, but I’ll bet you'll be getting more than your fair share from the crew. They ain't seen you yet and those puppy dog eyes work every time, Don't they?”

Hope barks in agreement and follows Caleb(or rather the platter of meats he's carrying) out to the patio. Setting the meats in different cabinets, Caleb sets timers and puts thermometer probes in each cabinet. “Perfect, now for MY breakfast and then we get ready for everyone else.”

Pouring himself a bowl of cereal, Caleb sits and fires off text messages to the group chat confirming everyone is coming to the Halloween Cookout.