No Chocolate for Dogs!

Steve was just the worst.

One day, without consulting me, he just moves into our house, bringing along his clothes and pillows and shoes that I’m not supposed to chew on. I mean, I’m not supposed to chew on any shoes, but it annoys me that I can’t tear up this intruder’s stuff. Who does he think he is? Doesn’t he know this house is just for me and Marco? The couch was the perfect size for the two of us, but ever since Steve showed up, I’ve been kicked to the floor.

Forgotten. Abandoned. Alone.

Even mornings have gotten all messed up. Instead of drinking coffee and giving me a smooch before he leaves for work, Marco kisses Steve instead and heads out the door. What have I done to deserve this? Am I a bad dog?

“Hey, Poquito,” Steve said to me. I looked up at his stupid face but refused to wag my tail. “It’s just going to be me and you today, okay? You’ll have to be patient with me. When I was a kid, we were a strictly no-pet house because of my dad’s allergies. So I don’t know much about dogs, but I’ll do my best.” Then he smiled at me like we were already friends.

Yeah, sure. Whatever. He eventually took the hint that I hated him, and he walked into the kitchen. I followed him, because even if it’s Steve, there might be snacks involved. He opened the refrigerator door and looked inside. I watched him carefully. He might drop something, and then it would be all mine.

But he didn’t drop anything. Instead, he set out the eggs and found a bag of flour in the cabinet. He set out even more ingredients that I didn’t even know we had. Baking powder? What the heck was that? I whined as he turned on the stove. Was he up to no good? Was Steve really an evil-doer after all?

Steve turned to me. “It’s Marco’s birthday today, so I’m baking him a cake. Don’t tell him, okay? It’s a surprise.”

I watched him as he poured a bunch of ingredients into a bowl and began to stir. At first I wasn’t interested because it didn’t really smell like anything tasty, but once he poured in a brown powder, I started to salivate. What was he making? And, more importantly, could I have some?

Steve must have noticed me. “Awww, do you want some too? Should I cut you a slice once Marco blows out the candles?”

I thumped my tail in response. I wasn’t sure what he said, but it sounded exciting.

“Well, first I have to bake it, buddy,” Steve said. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret. I like licking the spoon when all the batter is in the pan. But for the sake of our new friendship, I’ll let you have a taste instead.”

It seemed like a whole day passed before the stuff in the bowl was mixed. Steve poured the mixture into a pan and put it into the oven. He turned to me and held out the spoon. It was covered in a rich, brown goo and it smelled somehow even better than bacon. I eagerly licked it and was about to plead to Steve for some more when the front door opened. Marco walked inside, set his briefcase down and then looked at us with fury in his eyes.

“Marco! You’re home early,” Steve said.

Marco stomped into the kitchen. “What the hell were you doing?”

“I was just baking you a birthday cake,” Steve said. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but…”

“Did you give some to Poquito?” Marco demanded.

“Well, yes. Just a little,” Steve said.

“You idiot! Don’t you know you’re not supposed to give chocolate to dogs?” Marco yelled. “It could kill them!”

“What? It could?” Steve asked.

“Yes! Everyone knows that!”

“I didn’t. Marco, I’m so sorry,” Steve said. He looked like I do when I get caught rummaging through the trash can.

Marco wasn’t listening to him. He was scowling down at me. I thought for sure he would yell at me to go lie down in my crate, but he just held my face and looked me like something was wrong. What was he trying to figure out?

“He looks okay,” Marco said. His mouth was set in a firm line.

“Why did you come back home in such a hurry?” Steve asked.

“I forgot my laptop charger. But I have to run. I’ve got to get back to work,” Marco said. And with that, he swept toward the door.

“But sweetie?” Steve asked.

“What?”

“Have a happy birthday.”

Marco let out a sign. “Thanks. I’m sorry I snapped. It’ll be better when I can come home for the night. I want to eat that cake.”

Once he was gone, I thumped my tail at Steve. I knew what it was like to get in trouble.

****

The sun had set, Marco came home from work, and Steve brought out the birthday cake. It looked glorious, like a monument to all that was delicious and tasty. In an act that utterly baffled me, he put little colorful sticks in it and lit them on fire. Marco didn’t seem to mind. He just blew them out and smiled up at Steve who cut the cake. He put slices of the exquisite cake on a couple of plates and sat beside Marco.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Marco asked.

“Oh, nothing much. I’m just your angel, being sweet for no reason at all,” Steve said.

Marco rolled his eyes and took a bite.

“You like it?” Steve asked.

“It’s the best cake I’ve ever had,” Marco said.

“That’s because all you ever had was store-bought. I’m here to fix that,” Steve said. He turned to me and frowned. “Are you sure I can’t give some to Poquito? Not even a little? He looks so sad!”

“I told you. Chocolate cake will kill him. Or at least make him very, very sick,” Marco said. “Besides, I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I love your dog,” Steve said. “But I thought he didn’t like me!”

“He was just jealous of you,” Marco said.

“And now he will love me.” Steve went to the kitchen and returned with a small plate. On it sat a little cake. It smelled like apples and cinnamon and pumpkins and so many other good aromas. He sat it down on the floor in front of me. I couldn't move. I was in disbelief. A cake all for me?

“Steve, no!” Marco said. “What is wrong with you?”

“Relax,” Steve said. “This is a special dog cake. It hasn’t got any chocolate or wheat in it. It’s made with pumpkin puree, applesauce, and lots and lots of peanut butter.”

“Oh, Poquito loves peanut butter!” Marco said.

“No kidding!”

Together, they watched me completely devour the little cake Steve had made for me. Once I was done, I kept licking the plate until they took it away. Once the dishes were washed, they sat on the couch together. I lay on the floor, begrudgingly giving up my spot to Steve, who might not be so bad after all.

“I think there’s room up here,” Marco said. He patted a spot between himself and Steve. I climbed up between them. Even though they complained I was crushing them, I knew they weren’t serious.

I mean, how could they ever exclude me? We were a family now.