Breakfast with Bingo
By Valerie L. Egar
When I visit Grandma, I always have breakfast with Bingo.
“What would you and Bingo like for breakfast?” Grandma asks every morning. “Bingo likes pancakes best,” I might say and then, that’s what Grandma makes. Today I say, “Bingo would like scrambled eggs and toast.”
“It’s nice you always think of what Bingo likes,” Grandma says and laughs. Bingo is Grandma’s dog. He’s a rescue and looks like a cross between some kind of terrier and a poodle. He’s got wiry white fur that sticks out all over, big brown eyes and pointy ears. His tail is short and he wags it a lot, especially when we have breakfast together.
“Would Bingo like marmalade on his toast?” Grandma asks.
“No,” I tell her. “Bingo hates marmalade.” I look at him, sitting on the floor next to my chair. “He would like apple butter.”
These are all the foods Bingo hates: marmalade, bran muffins, cottage cheese, onions, mushrooms and Brussels sprouts. We don’t have to worry about the Brussels sprouts at breakfast, but I have to be sure Grandma doesn’t get any ideas about onions and mushrooms if Bingo and I ask for an omelet.
While Grandma cooks, I tell Bingo what I have planned for the day. “First, we’ll go for a long walk on the beach. You’ll like that.”
Bingo hears the word ‘walk’ and jumps up and down. He runs to the door.
“No, not now. After breakfast.” He sits.
“Then Grandma and I have to go to the store. You can’t come.” He looks sad. “But I’ll get you something. What would you like? Doggie Bacon Treats? Chicken Puppy Pleasers?”
Oh, no. Bingo starts dancing around like I’ve got a treat and I’m going to give it to him. He knows more words than my baby sister. I hold up my hands to show him I’m not holding anything. He stops twirling and sits next to my chair.
“When we get home from the store, it will be lunch time. You’ll like that. After that, we’ll decide what else we’re going to do, OK?” Bingo wags his tail.
Grandma brings in a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, a few slices of crisp bacon and an empty plate. “You can give some to Bingo, but he shouldn’t have more than a tiny piece of bacon.”
I taste the scrambled eggs. “Mmmm, very good.” I put a small scoop on the empty plate. Bingo wags his tail. “You have to wait. It’s still too hot for you.”
I tear the crust off my toast, break it into small pieces and put them next to the eggs. How much bacon? I take a bite. It’s salty and crisp. Yum. Maybe no bacon for Bingo?
I look at Bingo. He wags his tail and looks at me. Grandma said a small piece. I take an itsy-bitsy crumb of bacon and put it on top of the scrambled eggs on Bingo’s plate. I touch the eggs to see if they are still too hot for him. Just right. I start to put the plate on the floor, but the bacon on the plate is so small it’s no bacon at all.
Friends share with friends, even things they like a lot. I take another piece of bacon, a small one like Grandma told me, but enough for him to taste it, and put it on the plate. That’s my breakfast with Bingo.
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Copyright 2018 by Valerie L. Egar. May not be copied, reproduced or distributed without permission from the author.
Published July 22, 2018, Biddeford Journal Tribune (Biddeford, ME).