I Want Corn on the Cob

Portland, OR, June 28, 2021

My humans have no idea I can understand most of what they say. I just don’t care to listen when it’s not about me. I’m Simon, their 4-year-old dog of unknown breed because my folks won’t spring for a DNA test. My dad, Max, and my mom, Daisy, think they rescued me, but the reverse is true. I’m the glue holding this family together.

It’s nearly five in the morning. Daisy pops out of bed like a Jack-in-the-box toy. When we have hot days, she runs around like a madwoman to make sure all the fans are pointing in the correct direction to get the cool outside air in and the warm air out. She lights a match, blows on it, watches which way the smoke drifts, and then turns all the fans around, if needed. I enjoy watching her ritual.

Next, Mom switches on the bedroom TV to the local weather forecast to hear her favorite meteorologist: John Nelson. Although COVID is an ongoing concern, the extreme hot weather is the only story in Portland this week.

“We reached 112 degrees at the airport yesterday. I’m afraid that we’ll be hotter today since the 'Heat Dome' is still trapping in that hot air,” Nelson says. “Things will start to get better mid-week.”

Max groans. He grabs Daisy’s still warm but vacant pillow and places it over his head.

I hear water cascading in the shower and know my time lazing on my bed is short. With one eye open, I see Max is still again.

Daisy emerges from the bathroom, mopping her shoulder-length blonde hair with a towel, and is wearing shorts and a tank top to prepare for the onslaught of heat. She should try wearing a fur coat.

“Max, wake up,” Daisy says as she nudges his shoulders. “Can you water everything outside so the plants don’t die? It’s going to be hotter today than yesterday. This heat dome thing is unbelievable. It’s June, for chrissakes.”

Max groans, “Heat dome. Bah humbug. Is this your same weatherman who predicted the snowpocalypse last November? The one that didn’t materialize?”

“Come on, Max. This is real. People are dying. I can’t believe we don’t have an air conditioner. This is torture.”

“Not that again,” Max says as he props himself up with the pillows. He combs his curly brown hair with his fingers. “We can’t afford it, and it makes little sense for two reasons. We’re planning to move, and we don’t need A/C for 95% of the year.”

“During times like this, I wish we still worked downtown in a cool office building,” Daisy says. Then, turning to me with her dog voice, she says, “But we love working from home with you, Simon.” She gives me a pet, and I wag my tail.

Back to her regular voice, Mom says, “If that higher-paying job comes through for you, we’re moving, and our new place must have an air conditioner. Non-negotiable.”

I am not sure what day of the week it is, but I feel my chances of a trip to the Corn Stand on Sauvie Island diminishing. The hot weather means one thing to me, my favorite treat: corn on the cob. I eat the whole thing, cob and all. There’s nothing better. It seems a bit early in the year for corn, though. My dog calendar might be off. No mistaking it though, the heat makes my humans cranky.

Max arises, dresses, and takes me outside to do my business. He waters the plants while I sniff around. When we come back into the house, we see Daisy preparing breakfast in the kitchen.

“Oh, no!” Daisy stares at the open refrigerator and keeps poking her hand inside, touching items but not removing them. Then she opens the freezer and moves her hand from one item to the next. She turns to stare at Max with her hands on her hips and says, “The fridge is broken,” as if he has caused the problem.

Max, who stands leafing through the mail on the kitchen counter, looks up at her. He saunters over to the fridge, touches a few items, and says, “This old thing has been working hard to keep things cold in this hot house.”

“What’ll we do? Call for repair or shop for a new one?” she asks. “I don’t want to be driving around in this heat. People get crazy.”

Max shrugs.

Daisy continues, arms gesticulating. “It seems like every time something breaks down, it’s more expensive to replace it than to get a new one. What a world!” She takes in a deep breath, then expels an exasperated groan.

“It’s okay, Daze. We’ll figure this out. Let me research some things like how old this fridge is, what average repair costs are, and what a new one costs. In the meantime, I think we have a lot of eating to do.” He glares at all the food in the fridge and lifts his eyebrows.

Max’s superpower is calming tense situations. He often uses humor to achieve this. How do I get him to think of heading to the Corn Stand as an escape from their troubles? I walk to the door and stand staring at it there hoping they will notice.

My wish goes unnoticed as Max pounds away on his laptop with his problem-solving scowl. Daisy continues to sort through the refrigerator contents.

“Do you think we should fill a cooler with ice to preserve this food?” Daisy asks.

“I dunno. Seems like the grocery stores would be outta ice with the biggest heat wave in history descending on us.”

“So now you buy into the Heat Dome?”

“I feel the heat. It’s the name I reject,” Max says.

“A nomenclature thing. Gotcha.”

My front door plan isn’t working. All this talk of heat makes me thirsty, so I approach my water bowl, but it is bone dry. (Do you see what I did there? Bone.) Once again, I stand there, and thankfully, Daisy spots me.

In her dog voice she says, “Oh my sweet boy. Let me fill your water bowl.” She grabs some ice cubes from the freezer door. “And here, these will make your water nice and cool.”

I wag my tail and drink up.

By later that day, things are sorted. Max and Daisy decide they have enough food to keep them and me alive for two days. Max determines their refrigerator/freezer is twelve years old. They order a new refrigerator online, and it will be delivered before the food runs out. By using their credit card, they can pay for it on time. Unlike an air conditioning unit, we can take the fridge with us to our new place.

Daisy waters the plants in the family room. Max lies stretched out on the sofa, his laptop on his, well, lap.

“Babe!” Max rarely shouts, so this gets our attention.

“What is it?”

“I got the job!” He lets out a woot sound. If he were a dog, it would have been a howl a coyote would admire.

Daisy puts down her watering can and runs over to the couch and hugs Max. “Congratulations. This is great. Well done, you.”

“I’m stoked.” He reads the acceptance letter aloud. Max looks at Daisy, who appears deep in thought. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“You do?” she asks.

“You’re plotting out our next home’s location and imaging an air-conditioner cooling you.”

“I can’t deny it,” she laughs. Daisy glances at the clock, which shows five o’clock. Then she looks at me and says, “You must be hungry, Simon.”

I jump off the couch and walk toward my feeding area.

“Have I got a surprise for you,” Daisy says in her dog voice. “These frozen vegetables have thawed out.”

Mom pours half of my normal quantity of dried dog food into my bowl. Then, she tops it with an unknown substance. It smells good and somewhat sugary. Daisy places the bowl on my placemat, and I’m overcome with joy.

Corn!

***

Note: The Center for Health Statistics reported that 123 people died in Oregon because of the heatwave [Heat Dome of June 2021].