Lemonade

Boof!

“Alright! I’m coming!”

Boof, boof!

“Putting my shoes on!” I grab my sneakers, and slip into them.  I sit down on the couch to tie the laces, and my lab Lacey starts dancing around in circles in the living room.

Boof! Boof, boof!!

“Can I tie them please?”  If she could roll her eyes, she would.  She lays down on the carpet, staring at me impatiently.  She’s a rescue dog, and she’s been with me for 3 years.  She knows the routine by now, but still gets impatient.  

“Ok” I say, as I lace up the second shoe.  “Go get your leash!” She doesn’t wait for me to tell her twice!  Lacey jumps up and prances her way to the hallway to grab her leash.  I clip her up, and lock the door behind me.  We get to the sidewalk and I (unlike her) wait patiently for her to decide which way she wants to go.  She stands there for a minute smelling the air in both directions, like it’s the biggest decision she’ll ever make in her life.  She decides to go right tonight.  We walk north for a few blocks, up past the Elementary school, and hang a left a few blocks later.  We wander along the quiet suburban street that’s blanketed in the fallen purple flowers from the Jacaranda trees above.  I gaze up at the partial moon that’s visible early tonight.  I love my neighborhood, it’s a little slice of a small town inside of a big city.

Lacey gets excited, and starts pulling a little.  I look around, expecting to see a squirrel or a cat, but instead down the block is a little girl set up in her yard with what looks to be a lemonade stand.  Besides her ball, Lacey’s other great love is kids.  She can’t pass anyone under the age of 12 without saying hi.  Some parents are a little leary, but my sweet girl knows exactly how gentle to be with kids.  If she sees a toddler, she lays down at their feet and waits for them to approach her.  Bigger kids she just walks right up to and kisses on the cheek.  This, of course, usually elicits a bout of the giggles.

As we approach, the girls mom comes and stands behind her, protectively.  

“Whatcha got?” I ask.  Neither of them respond, but I see the colorful sign encased in butterfly stickers that clearly states that a glass of lemonade is 25 cents.  “Wow! Lemonade.  And it’s only 25 cents?!”  I say excitedly.  Again, no response.  I dig in my pocket and pull out two quarters, and hand them to the little girl, in exchange for the solo cup in her outstretched hand. I say thank you, and am about to resume our evening walk when the girls mom pipes up.

“We don’t want your charity! Give that lady her quarter back!” She’s not yelling, but her voice is booming.  I stand there baffled, since when is giving a kid an extra quarter considered charity.  I look at the mom, and she has a look on her face that’s daring me to challenge her.  The little girl sticks her hand in her money jar, and awkwardly holds the quarter out for me to take.  I don’t.

“It’s not charity, it’s a tip.  I got excellent service!” I say sweetly, with a smile.  I start to turn away again, hoping this is the end of the conversation.  Unfortunately, it’s not.

“100% tip?!  Where I come from, that’s considered charity!”  I can’t believe this lady.  You’re bitching at me for giving your kid an extra quarter?

“Where I come from, it’s called encouraging young entrepreneurship.” The little girl looks up at her mom, clearly confused by what I just said.  I turn to leave again, hoping and praying that this is the end of this dreadful conversation.  Of course it’s not, why would it be?

“We don’t want your ‘encouragement’.” She says snottily.  The kid isn’t the only one confused by what’s going on.

“What do you want me to do, dig in my pocket and find a nickel so it’s exactly 20% tip?”  Mom sticks out her lips at me, clearly disgusted by my attitude.  This time I really do walk away, feeling sorry for that little girl.

I try to swap leash and lemonade in my hands, but of course the lemonde ends up spilling all over the leash.  Awesome, now I have a sticky leash I have to deal with.  

“No good deed goes unpunished, right Lacey?”

Boof! She starts bouncing excitedly, and pulling on the leash.  It really is a squirrel this time.  The rest of the lemonade gets dumped all over my shoes, in our race to the tree.  Lacey puts her front paws on the trunk, wishing desperately that she knew how to climb. The squirrel hangs out on the trunk, just above her reach. Taunting her, and staring her down. Oddly, this squirrel somehow reminds me of the angry mom I just encountered who tried to stare me down.

“Come on lacey, we’re not gonna win tonight.”  Lacey follows me regretfully.  Like all the dogs I’ve ever had, she thinks she could get that squirrel if I had just let her try.  And who am I to tell her there’s not a chance in hell?  At the end of the block we make another left, heading home with an empty lemonade cup, and empty hopes of catching a squirrel tonight.  There’s a ball at home though, and that will make us both forget all about the squirrel, and the lemonade.