he was smiling again. Probably he was smiling because I’d brought a side order of pancakes in a doggie box.
“You want to feed Spot some pancake frisbees?” I asked.
Paco looked up at Spot’s head. Spot’s fangs were evident at the sides of his panting tongue. Paco took a step back and shook his head.
“Okay,” I said. “Stand back.”
Paco moved away as I pulled a pancake out and spun it toward Spot. Spot grabbed it out of the air with a click of teeth and a wag of his tail. Same for the second cake.
The third went high. Spot strained as it sailed over the top of the Jeep.
I fetched it from the parking lot, brought it back around.
“It’s probably got sand on it,” Paco said, frowning.
I held it up. It wasn’t especially dirty, but it was soggy from landing on the wet asphalt.
“Good thing Spot ain’t picky,” I said.
Spot snatched it out of the air.
“Like Jerry Rice reaching over his shoulder as he makes a running leap into the end zone,” I said.
Paco just frowned at me.
“Okay, so he didn’t leap, but it was still a good catch.” Spot kept looking at me. I could see his tail inside the Jeep, smacking back and forth between the front and back seat backs.
“Sorry, largeness. You want more to eat, you gotta settle for the sawdust chunks.”
Spot’s tail slowed.
We got in the Jeep and headed out of town. I periodically checked my rear-view mirror to watch for any possible tails.
Instead of driving down Highway 50 and the American River Canyon, I took the alternative route to the Stockton area by heading out of South Lake Tahoe on 50 and, before heading up Echo Summit, turning south on Highway 89, down Christmas Valley.
The rain clouds had dissipated somewhat, and patches of blue were visible here and there in the gray blanket that seemed to rest on the white mountaintops.
“At ten years of age, you’d be about fifth grade, right, Paco?”
“Fourth.” Paco looked out the window, his face passive. “They held me back.”
“Why?” I said.
“Because I’m dumb. I can’t go to Middle School.”
“You’re not dumb. You probably know more about tomatoes and peppers and other vegetables than most people.”
“Tomatoes and peppers are fruits,” Paco said.
“You’re kidding.”
Paco shook his head. “Tomatoes hold the seeds. That makes them a fruit.”
“But what about peppers? They have seeds.”
“Fruit,” Paco said. “You can ask a scientist.”
“Well, that seems a stretch,” I said, pleased that I’d found a subject that the reticent kid would talk about. “Squash and pumpkins are obviously vegetables, and they contain seeds.”
Paco shook his head. “Fruit.”
“Green beans?”
“Beans are called dry fruits. Like peas. Like corn and wheat and rice.”
“Okay,” I said. “If all of these are technically fruit, why do we have the word vegetable?”
“For vegetables.”
“Give me an example of a vegetable that isn’t technically a fruit.”
Paco sighed. I was so tedious.
“Vegetables are like carrots and onions. Celery. Lettuce and spinach. The parts of plants you eat that don’t hold the seeds.”
“Got it,” I said. “You want a vegetable, you eat the non-seed part of a plant.”
Paco was quiet. Eventually he said, “You can’t just eat any part of a plant. Tomato plants are poisonous. The leaves and stems. Potato plants, too.”
“Really. But the fruit is okay,” I said.
He nodded. “Unless it’s not ripe. Then it can make you sick, too. And potatoes are vegetables.”
“What would happen if you ate tomato leaves?” I said.
“Make you puke. Then paralyze you.”
“Ah,” I said. “Because the leaves of tomatoes and potatoes are both poisonous, are they related?”
“Yeah. They’re called nightshade plants. Like peppers. And tobacco.”
I was still marveling at Paco’s sudden loquaciousness. “Why are they called nightshade plants?”
“’Cause they’re like each other, I guess,” he said.
I couldn’t
“You want to feed Spot some pancake frisbees?” I asked.
Paco looked up at Spot’s head. Spot’s fangs were evident at the sides of his panting tongue. Paco took a step back and shook his head.
“Okay,” I said. “Stand back.”
Paco moved away as I pulled a pancake out and spun it toward Spot. Spot grabbed it out of the air with a click of teeth and a wag of his tail. Same for the second cake.
The third went high. Spot strained as it sailed over the top of the Jeep.
I fetched it from the parking lot, brought it back around.
“It’s probably got sand on it,” Paco said, frowning.
I held it up. It wasn’t especially dirty, but it was soggy from landing on the wet asphalt.
“Good thing Spot ain’t picky,” I said.
Spot snatched it out of the air.
“Like Jerry Rice reaching over his shoulder as he makes a running leap into the end zone,” I said.
Paco just frowned at me.
“Okay, so he didn’t leap, but it was still a good catch.” Spot kept looking at me. I could see his tail inside the Jeep, smacking back and forth between the front and back seat backs.
“Sorry, largeness. You want more to eat, you gotta settle for the sawdust chunks.”
Spot’s tail slowed.
We got in the Jeep and headed out of town. I periodically checked my rear-view mirror to watch for any possible tails.
Instead of driving down Highway 50 and the American River Canyon, I took the alternative route to the Stockton area by heading out of South Lake Tahoe on 50 and, before heading up Echo Summit, turning south on Highway 89, down Christmas Valley.
The rain clouds had dissipated somewhat, and patches of blue were visible here and there in the gray blanket that seemed to rest on the white mountaintops.
“At ten years of age, you’d be about fifth grade, right, Paco?”
“Fourth.” Paco looked out the window, his face passive. “They held me back.”
“Why?” I said.
“Because I’m dumb. I can’t go to Middle School.”
“You’re not dumb. You probably know more about tomatoes and peppers and other vegetables than most people.”
“Tomatoes and peppers are fruits,” Paco said.
“You’re kidding.”
Paco shook his head. “Tomatoes hold the seeds. That makes them a fruit.”
“But what about peppers? They have seeds.”
“Fruit,” Paco said. “You can ask a scientist.”
“Well, that seems a stretch,” I said, pleased that I’d found a subject that the reticent kid would talk about. “Squash and pumpkins are obviously vegetables, and they contain seeds.”
Paco shook his head. “Fruit.”
“Green beans?”
“Beans are called dry fruits. Like peas. Like corn and wheat and rice.”
“Okay,” I said. “If all of these are technically fruit, why do we have the word vegetable?”
“For vegetables.”
“Give me an example of a vegetable that isn’t technically a fruit.”
Paco sighed. I was so tedious.
“Vegetables are like carrots and onions. Celery. Lettuce and spinach. The parts of plants you eat that don’t hold the seeds.”
“Got it,” I said. “You want a vegetable, you eat the non-seed part of a plant.”
Paco was quiet. Eventually he said, “You can’t just eat any part of a plant. Tomato plants are poisonous. The leaves and stems. Potato plants, too.”
“Really. But the fruit is okay,” I said.
He nodded. “Unless it’s not ripe. Then it can make you sick, too. And potatoes are vegetables.”
“What would happen if you ate tomato leaves?” I said.
“Make you puke. Then paralyze you.”
“Ah,” I said. “Because the leaves of tomatoes and potatoes are both poisonous, are they related?”
“Yeah. They’re called nightshade plants. Like peppers. And tobacco.”
I was still marveling at Paco’s sudden loquaciousness. “Why are they called nightshade plants?”
“’Cause they’re like each other, I guess,” he said.
I couldn’t
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