Petey

“Petey, out from under the table.” Diego set the last dish— a steaming mound of coconut rice— and bent so he was eye level with the mischievous brown eyes of my Aunt’s very large labradoodle. “You know the rules. Mat.”

Petey made a show of tucking his tail as he slowly padded over to the brightly patterned rug stationed in front of the back door. Sunlight poured through the French doors, and Petey curled into the warmth, looking balefully at Diego and then me through twitching eyebrows.

“You know he’s just going to be under the table again as soon as Aunt Sara gets here,” I said, setting the forks next to each of the four dinner plates. The large wooden table could easily hold a gathering of twelve people. Instead of utilizing both heads of the table, family dinners were spent cloistered together at one end. Petey had taken to claiming his place in the head chair, and while Aunt Sara had delighted in his antics, Diego had other opinions and placed the chair by the doorway, nearly touching the doormat Petey now rested upon.

Diego shook his head. “Spoiled dog.”

Petey gave a low grunt. I tried not to laugh.

Outside a car door slammed, and Petey was immediately on his feet, barking happily as he crossed the kitchen in a single bound and raced down the hallway. My aunt’s voice carried from the carport, matching Petey’s enthusiastic greeting. “Petey! I’m so excited to see you, too. Have you been a good boy today?”

The staccato of her high heels mingled with the sound of prancing dog claws on the tile floors, and a moment later Aunt Sara was in the kitchen. “Mmm. Smells good in here!” She set her bags on the counter, kicked off her shoes, and came round to inspect the table. Her thick blond curls spilled past her shoulders as she leaned over, inhaling deeply. “Ooooh somebody went hunting today.”