Unattended Children

CW: Pet loss

“Daddy, what does that say?” A young girl peeked with one eye from behind her father’s leg and pointed a chubby finger at the sign behind me. 

Her father ruffled her golden curls and answered with a chuckle, “Warning: Unattended children will be given espresso and a free puppy.” 

Her eyes lit up and she clasped her hands together. “Am I un-tended, Daddy?”

“Sorry, peanut, but no. You’re attended to.” Her lip protruded into an adorable pout before he continued expertly. “And anyway, we have Luna and Bella at home. Do you want a cake pop?” 

The little girl hopped up and down with delight, all thoughts of puppies forgotten. “Yes, pease! A pink one!” 

I smiled and reached into the case for a strawberry cake pop. My daughter, Olivia, completed ringing him up and I handed him the cake pop and a large coffee with two creams. I suspected the caffeine would be much-needed. He thanked Olivia and me and handed the cake pop to the little girl.

I grabbed a couple of dog biscuits from under the register. “For Luna and Bella. And I apologize for my silly sign.” 

He waved off my apology, slipping the biscuits into his coat pocket and then reaching for his daughter’s now-sticky hand. She waved and gave me a scrunched-nose grin, pink frosting surrounding her mouth. I chuckled and shook my head as they walked out the door. 

The next few hours flew by thanks to a steady stream of tired parents, professionals, and high school students. People of all walks of life came through the doors seeking something to get them past the midafternoon energy slump so they could power through evenings full of dinnertime, chores, homework, and whatever else came their way. At quarter to six, I said goodnight to the last customers as they exited the dining area.

Exhausted but contented, I began the familiar closing routine—wiping down tables, emptying trash cans, and tidying the back room where we had a little hangout spot set up like a large living room. I went to grab the vacuum from the supply closet and jumped a mile when the bathroom door beside me opened.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, hand to my chest.

“Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to startle you.” The teen boy’s voice was thick, his eyes red and puffy. 

“No worries! We’re still open; I just didn’t realize anyone else was here. Can I get you anything?” 

His face flushed and he ran his fingers through his mop of fluffy hair. “I, uh, don’t have any money. I just… wasn’t ready to go home.” He looked down at his scuffed Adidas. 

“Not to pry, but… are things at home okay? Do you need help? You can tell me to mind my beeswax, but I’m a good listener.” 

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like what you—” he rushed to say. “I mean… Well, my mom should be getting home any minute and she’ll be worried I’m not home. I’ll just…” The boy pointed to the door and took a tentative step.

“It’s cold outside and it’s getting dark. You could hang out here and call or text her for a ride and I could make you a warm drink? My treat. Something sweet always helps me a bit when I’ve had a bad day.”

The boy looked out the shop window at the fading light and bit his lip. He nodded his head, hair falling over his eyes. “Let me text and see if she’s okay with that. I’ll pay you back, though.” 

I waved my hand dismissively. “Pay it forward someday if you like, but this is on me. I insist.” 

“Thank you, then. I’ll do that.”  

We wandered back toward the front of the store, him looking down at his phone and texting as we walked. Olivia stood at the counter looking our way, eyes wide. She tucked her hair behind her ears. 

“Hi, Owen,” she said with an awkward little wave. Their eyes met before they both looked away.

“Hey, Liv. I, uh, didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yeah, well. I do?” She cleared her throat. “Work here, that is. Um. That’s my mother.” She pointed at me unnecessarily, then wiped her hands on her apron. 

I looked between the two of them and stifled a grin.

“So, Owen is it?” He gave a little nod. “Is your mother able to pick you up? I could give you a ride if it’s a problem.”

“Oh, no, ma’am. I mean, yes ma’am? I mean. She’ll be here in ten minutes.” 

I busied myself with making a shot of espresso. 

“Flavors you like? Caramel, vanilla, honey, mocha…?” I glanced up, waiting for his reply.

“Vanilla with caramel drizzle, please, if that’s okay?” 

“Of course! That’s Olivia’s favorite, too.” I smiled and went back to making his drink.

“Mom, can I give him the last muffin, too?” Olivia whispered. I nodded and she happily flounced over to plate it. 

“Here, Owen. You can have this, too. Otherwise it would just get thrown away. It’s a lemon poppyseed muffin.” Olivia eagerly presented the plate.

He cleared his throat and his eyes welled up. 

“Oh! I should have asked. You’re not, like, allergic or anything, right? Sorry.” She set the plate on the counter. 

“Muffin is, er, I guess she was,” he cleared his throat once more, “the name of my dog.” 

“Ohmygosh, I’m so sorry!” Olivia covered her mouth with both hands. 

My own eyes welled up with tears as memories of pets I’d lost through my lifetime flitted through my mind. 

Owen closed his eyes and shrugged. 

“I’m sorry, too,” I said. I held out his latte and he took it without a word. 

“Ugh. I could repeat the same tired platitudes we’ve all heard countless times. Or… you could show us some pictures or tell us something about her?” 

Owen held up his phone. His lock screen was a picture of a golden retriever, its eyes in focus but its nose blurry from being too close to the camera. I smiled. 

“She looks like a sweetie,” I said. 

Olivia wiped a tear from her cheek with a watery chuckle. She produced a box of tissues from under the register and surreptitiously placed them within arms’ reach of all three of us. 

“We got her when I was three. I don’t remember a time before her. I just— I couldn’t bring myself to walk home and open the front door to no Muffin. She always met me there holding a tennis ball, her bowl, or a random sock she’d dug out of my hamper.” 

“We lost our dog, Mellie, a year ago. She liked to sit on the area rug, wagging her whole backside, looking ready to pounce. Then she’d just wait there until we said ‘Baby dog!’ to come bounding to the door to greet us.” Olivia twisted a tissue in her hands. I smiled a misty smile at the memory and reached for a tissue of my own. Owen took a small sip of his latte.

The bell on the door jingled as it opened. A woman stepped inside. She caught sight of Owen and smiled fleetingly. 

“Hey, Mom. Sorry,” Owen said.

“It’s okay, hon. I understand,” she said. She turned toward Olivia and me. “I’m Nicole. Thank you so much for looking out for Owen.” Her eyes drifted over my shoulder.

I looked behind me to see what had caught her eye and saw the same sign the father had read to his young daughter several hours earlier. 

The sign had always been just decoration before today— purchased on a whim at a craft fair. I squinted, deep in thought. Nicole squinted back at me suspiciously after catching the direction of my gaze. She shook her head imperceptibly. 

“Nicole, can we go chat in the back room? Olivia, would you mind flipping the sign to ‘closed’? And then could you two kids bring the trash out together? Thanks!” 

Nicole screwed up one side of her mouth and lowered her chin pointedly at me. I grinned back at her. She threw up her hands and followed me. 

“I am absolutely NOT accepting a puppy.” Nicole crossed her arms tightly. 

“Just hear me out. I know what you’re going to say. It seems way too soon and you don’t want to replace Muffin. But there was literally a sign.” I pointed back toward the register.

“A sign that you put there.” 

“It’s still a sign. But anyway, my brother breeds goldens. He has this one puppy they were thinking of keeping for their program, but she’s on the small side of the growth curve. He called this morning and asked if I knew anyone who might like her. So. That’s two signs.” I held up my phone, where I’d pulled up a photo of the puppy in question being held by a smiling Olivia. The two teens walked up to us. 

“All done,” Olivia said. Her eyes widened as she noticed the photo on my phone. “Ohmygosh! Yes! That’s the most perfect idea!” 

Owen and his mother were both looking at the photo with unreadable expressions. 

“It’s cute,” Nicole admitted. “But we’re not ready.”

“Definitely not.” Owen agreed. 

“Okay. No pressure. But here, take my card. My mobile number is on the back. If you change your mind, text me. She’s six months old and immensely loved so they just want her to go to an amazing home where she’d be loved. I get the feeling yours would qualify.” I held out the card toward Nicole and she hesitated before taking it and tucking it into her wallet.

Later that night, I texted my brother. 

Me: Did you find a home for Mochi?

Dan: Nah, not yet. No rush. We love her and we’ll be sad to see her go.

Me: I think I may have found someone. One of Olivia’s classmates. His childhood dog passed away.

Dan: I had a feeling the right home would be out there.

Me: They still aren’t sure they’re ready. 

Dan: Understandable. Like I said, though. No rush.

*****

When Friday rolled around, I was surprised to see a text from an unfamiliar number.

Nicole: This is Nicole. We were wondering… could we meet the puppy? Just to meet her.

Me: Of course! Want to swing by the shop tomorrow? I can have my brother bring her to the back room. 

Nicole: Okay. Yeah. 11a.m.?

Me: Perfect. There’s usually a bit of a lull then. 

Nicole: See you then.

 The next day at precisely 11, an unsmiling Owen appeared in the doorway of the coffee shop with his parents hovering close behind. I greeted them with a smile and ushered them into the back room where Olivia was waiting with Mochi. The puppy pranced over and tugged at Owen’s pant leg. He chuckled and then plopped unceremoniously on the floor. Mochi climbed onto his lap. Everyone in the room was smiling and laughing as I walked away to let them get to know each other. 

I glanced at the wall behind the register and wondered if it was time to retire the sign. I ran my fingers over the raised letters.

Warning: Unattended children will be given espresso and a free puppy.