Chapter 1: Voices
In the spring, he began to lie by the front door when she came home, listening to them talking on the front porch. As a creature of habit, this nightly ritual was comforting to him.
As spring turned to summer, it had become increasingly more difficult to eavesdrop on Mom and Dad because their conversations were punctuated by long pauses. When it first started happening, Paul Anka thought Dad had left, but he could still hear them breathing. In fact, their breathing got very loud when they stopped talking. Strange, he thought.
He also thought it was strange that Dad had not come into the house. He heard Mom try to convince Dad that he should (or was it could? Paul Anka wasn't sure).
Dad kept saying that it was either too soon or it was too late which was very confusing.
One thing Paul Anka was not confused about. He had missed Dad. Mom had, too.
Of course, Paul Anka knew that the main reason hemissed Dad was food related. Maybe, if Mom could get him to come in, hamburgers would follow. Okay, sometimes Dad cooked them a little too long, but, at this point, he'd eat one any way at all. Tartar, medium well, charred, he didn't care. And, if it were "too late" for hamburger, maybe in the morning he could get some scrambled eggs. As his stomach rumbled, he thought, Oh boy, miss them!
He'd had to settle for pizza crusts which were good enough though not great. Sometimes, Mom would give him some of that funny-tasting hamburger from the top of the pizza. This was especially good when a little cheese was stuck to it. Snausage, he thinks that's what she called it. Still, nothing tasted as good as hamburger.
Paul Anka realized he was drooling, so he decided to think about something else. He remembered the time Mom gave him something from that small, white box with the wire handles. She spent a lot of time cleaning up after that, almost as long as after the Pie Man gave him dessert. Never could get the Pie Man to understand that potpie(with the peas carefully removed, of course) was the only pie for dogs. Yummy crust…wait! Paul Anka recognized he was preoccupied with his favorite subject, food.
Fortunately, Mom and Dad started talking again. It occurred to Paul Anka that there were other things he missed about Dad, like the pitch of his voice. Pie Man had a higher voice. Not like the nice lady who fed him at times. Her voice had the frequency of one of those dog whistles, but Dad's…
Yes, Dad had the perfect pitch to his voice. Its frequency wasn't too high or too low. Paul Anka missed just hearing him. He also missed Dad's pet name for him. What was it? He scratched his head with his hind paw and the name came to him…Weirdo. Yeah, that was it.
Suddenly, Paul Anka was aware they were still talking behind the front door, but he listened to Mom's voice this time. With Pie Man, even Mom's happy voice sounded shrill. His mind began to wander to even less pleasant areas…don't get started with the voice of The White Tornado, he thought. So, Paul Anka resumed concentrating on the sound of Mom and Dad's voices.
Mom had had a different pitch, the perfect pitch, in her voice when Dad was around. Then, her voice had sounded like a clear, ringing bell or maybe like one of those little songbirds. Paul Anka snorted. Jeez, what do you think you are, a poet? As he returned to listening, he believed Mom's voice was back in a good frequency range. Yep, he said to himself, she's sounding good…did she persuade him…is he coming in?