Chapter 13

Canton Texas is mainly a giant flea market, masquerading as a Texas Town. For three weekends during the month it tries to seem townish. This wasn't one of its pretend to be normal weekends though. It was down to its real function. Anything and everything was for sale here, somewhere.

At the main flea market, which is Texas sized squared, we just wandered around. Meka looked at a few things but she didn't find much she liked for some reason. She was amazed at the number of people though, and she also wanted a taste of every food item that was for sale. She loved cotton candy and giggled the whole time she was getting most of it in her mouth but plenty of it on her.

The shit hit the fan when we went to look at the livestock. It wasn't really a problem, but Meka had never seen a lot of the animals there. Of course she now knew about horses but she was true to Little Missy and didn't pay the ones here much attention.

Ducks, and especially chickens, were a big hit with her. She wasn't in the market for a pet snake, but she did look the baby alligators over closely, and the big aquariums all took a few minutes of her time.

The dogs were the things that stole the show for Meka. I guess she was more accustomed to coyotes or wolves, but she was a goner when the first puppy licked her on the face. Without a doubt, I knew what was coming but I didn't even try to avoid it. I did try to make her understand that she could only have one.

I think she understood anyway. She looked at every mutt there, puppy or grown dog, and she didn't cull the registered dogs either. She even took a gander at the cats, but you know how cats are. She wasn't impressed by their standoffish attitude.

I felt a little twinge about selling Boris and Blue during my yard sale and then buying another dog. That was then though, this was now, and if Meka wanted a dog she was damned sure going to get one.

She settled on a Miniature Poodle. It was just one of the small ones to me, but the lady that was selling them was kind enough to tell me that a Miniature poodle was between fifteen inches to ten inches at the highest point of the shoulder.

Of course the one that was kissing Meka at the time wasn't that big yet, but the lady promised me it would grow into that range, or I could return it for a full refund. I almost laughed at her right off, and then I did. She took it well.

"I'll admit the chances of you returning the dog are going to be low," she said, grinning.

"I'll have to say that's the first time a salesman ever used the puppy close on me for a real puppy," I said.

I'm not sure whether Meka picked the puppy or the puppy picked Meka, but I knew they would not be separated without more trouble than I wanted to contemplate. I paid the five hundred bucks and was glad to. The woman gave me the papers and even told me what to do and how quick I needed to send them in.

"I'll probably let Ethel take care of that," I said.

"All you really have to do is name the dog and fill in the owner's information, everything else is ready to go," she said.

"Good, you don't happen to have a tiny collar and leash that will work do you?" I asked.

I got a hard look from her, and then a song and dance about the puppy being too small for that kind of thing yet. When I thought about it I knew the woman was right.

"I do have a small box with a towel that has his mother's scent on it though, and his favorite chew toy," she said, and then she produced them.

Good old me got to carry the box and Meka took charge of the poodle. I didn't even try to start in about the name. We could do that later, hopefully with the help of Doctor Jorge, so Meka would have an idea of what she was naming it.

For the next hour or so I wagged the box and Meka carried, talked to, and petted her dog; she also furnished a handy face for him to lick on. I noticed that she seemed to have a name for him now too. She called him ch'uht'uh dìitsi? more than once, and I wondered if I'd ever be able to say it.

We saw a few more things that looked interesting and finished it off by taking a tour of the used cars. Meka liked several, but I was just as glad she didn't seem to want one. Especially since the one she liked best was a 1956 Thunderbird.

It was a nice enough old T-bird, but even I could tell that whoever did the paint and bodywork was pretty good with paint, and amateurish, at best, with the body part.

The spray work was top notch, but the bodywork left a lot to be desired, at best. Looking down the sides reminded me of a flag waving. It looked like it could have used ten or fifteen more hours of block sanding before they started turning it black again. And that's another thing, no real bodyman would paint something black when he knew he didn't have the thing right.

After the T-bird show, I called the antique shop and they said we were all loaded. Meka and I saddled up and left the flea market. I thought she was too smart for words when she put the puppy on the ground and let it walk around until it watered and fertilized the parking lot before we got in.

I'd never really cared much for poodles, but I didn't have any real reason for the feeling. I'd always considered them strictly lap dogs and that was something I'd never wanted. Meka was more than pleased with her purchase though and that was all that mattered to me.

After we hooked the trailer, we both went inside to see if we were all set. Meka brought her new best friend in of course, and the old guy and the young woman just had to pet it a little. Finally Meka held him up to me and said bathroom. The woman caught on and led her to one while I held her dog.

"Daddy," Meka said, yelling for me not thirty seconds after she'd been led toward the facility.

I said I was coming and walked to her voice. The young woman was embarrassed but smiling and when I got to the door I saw why.

Meka was standing in the bathroom, staring at the toilet. She wasn't scared or shy or anything, she was amazed. It was one of those really old flush toilets that have the tank up near the ceiling and the flush handle hanging down from it on a chain. I smiled at Meka and told her to give it a try.

I know she couldn't understand what I said, but she got the idea, and taking hold of the handle at the end of the chain, she gave it a tug. It made such a loud noise that it surprised her and she squealed in delight. I knew we were in it for the long haul too. It didn't seem to bother the woman a bit and she let Meka flush to her heart's content.

Finally Meka seemed satisfied and she closed the door and did what people normally do in bathrooms, I guess. She only flushed twice more before she came out to give me a turn. Somehow she realized that when I heard the toilet flush, I usually needed to use it myself right afterward.

With the business over, I stopped by the front desk on our way out and asked the old man to find us one of those toilets.

"I don't think I can put one in my house, but I know Ethel is going to want one after this," I told him, and he promised to get a couple, just in case.

Meka, the little dog, and I mounted up and rode back to the almost truck stop where we'd spent the night before. I had the devil of a time making her understand that the dog would not be welcome in the café, but I think she finally understood that it wasn't my rule.

She did let it on the ground again so it could water the parking lot and then we got back in the cab so she could make him comfortable in his box, and make sure he knew where his chew toy was. They both seemed resigned to parting for a while and he gave her a last lick and then settled down in his box. That was amazing in itself.

After we'd eaten, Meka brought up the question of the dogs supper. She said dog, and then she said hamburger. Hell, I could take a hint. I ordered a carry out hamburger patty and at the last second Meka said sunny-side-up and we threw in two eggs too.

They brought it out in one of those Styrofoam clamshell plates. Meka took one look at the patty and tore it up into tiny pieces; she must have figured that doggy could deal with the eggs in their natural state.

If Meka hadn't been his number one girl before supper, she was after she laid that feast on doggy. He damn near wagged his little poodle tail off when she first opened the container and put it in his box. Then he vacuumed it clean, licking until he had that thing cleaner than when it was new.

Meka watched the whole thing, giggling all the while, and when he gave up on finding even one more taste on the Styrofoam she took it out of his box. I'll be damned if he didn't lie down on his stuffed little belly and conk right out.

Meka and I went to bed ourselves.

The little dog woke me, and Meka, about four hours later, whining. At first I was getting cranked up to be pissed off, and then a thought stuck me. I put on my pants, pulled my boots on without bothering with socks, and took him outside. Meka watched us the whole time, perched in the drivers seat in her T-shirt nightgown and boxer briefs.

I'll be damned if the little ball of curls didn't squat and pee as soon as I set him on the ground and then he walked around sniffing for a few minutes and took a big dump. It was just too good to be true and I felt like I'd cheated the woman out of the other five hundred buck I should have given her for him.

Nobody can house break a puppy that young, and one sniff of what the eggs had done for him put his whining to go out right at the top of my list of welcome miracles. It was too good to be true and I still thought it was a lie when I went back to bed.

We made sure to let the little guy have a walk first thing the next morning too, and then Meka and I made a beeline for the café. The first waitress we'd had here was back on duty and her face lit up when she saw Meka again. Meka showed her that she still had a good appetite and after we'd finished our meal we ordered the doggie's breakfast.

I let Meka feed her charge in the sleeper while I took off. Soon enough, she claimed her trucking throne and the dog was sawing logs in its box again. Meka kept checking on him though; she'd take a look in the box about every thirty minutes and then get back in her seat.

Her little drill for this was too cute for words. First she'd turn to look through the opening to the sleeper, and of course she couldn't see doggy, since he was snoozing in the box. Undaunted, she'd let the air out of her seat until it was low enough for her to get down without jumping off it. After she was satisfied that he was all right, she'd get back in her seat and hit the up button on the air ride to get back to viewing level.

We pulled up behind George's house right before noon and Meka let me know she wanted to blow the train horn this time. She had some work to do before she could make it really sound like a train, but she was right on top of making it loud as hell.

Ethel was first out of the house and she got to the truck's door before Meka and I could even get down. Meka gave her a big hug and then said, "Look Ethel" and climbed back up. She and the dog and the whistle reappeared in seconds. Wanda was with us by now and the celebration began.