Change in Flea Bite Visits

One afternoon, I left my shoes and socks behind and walked to the Flea Bite Café barefoot.
“Bonjour, Sasha,” I said to an Irish setter named Sasha La Fleur as I walked over to the counter where she was working.
“Hi, Ricky,” she said. “No shoes today?”
“Not today,” I replied. “I left them behind.”
“I see,” she replied.
“I hope that, what with you and the other dogs being barefoot 24/7, I’m not violating the health code, am I?” I asked.
“Not at all,” Sasha replied.
“Good,” I said in relief.

“By the way,” I said, changing the subject. “I hope you have means of playing a certain prank-used song.”
This song was Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up,” which I meant to use in retaliation if my arch-nemesis Jason Ryen, the brother of my late ex-girlfriend Stephanie, were to call and keep taking his sister’s death out on me and wish I was, as the arch-angel Annabelle puts it, “on the other side” where her cousin Belladonna lives.
Sasha nodded.
“Good for you,” I replied.
“But, Ricky,” she said. “I wouldn’t recommend Rick-rolling.”
“Whatever,” I said, not actually agreeing, but not willing to start an argument, especially to which point Sasha would eject me.

Changing the subject again, I asked, “Is there anything safe for human consumption?”
“Yes,” she said.
“What’s available?” I asked.
Sasha gave me a menu, but she said, “Well, there are hamburgers, steaks, ribs, fried chicken, all kinds.”
I would have looked at the menu, but remembering Sasha’s customers pay with bones, and that I don’t use that for currency, I said, “I'd love to, but I just thought of it. I never use bones in payment.”
“Any credit will do as long as it’s not fake money,” Sasha said.
I don’t use credit either. Instead, I use a debit card, so I asked, “So you have the kind of computer system for debit or credit cards?”
“Sure do,” Sasha replied.
“Good, for I don’t have much physically in hand,” I said, meaning I didn’t have a lot with me in hand, only in my checking account. Of course, I had some in my savings account, too, but my card wouldn’t work on that one.

Looking at the menu, I asked, “What’s the special today?”
“Chicken ala King,” she said.
“What’s it like?” I asked, wondering what’s in it.
Thinking I meant, “How good is it?” she said, “Let’s just say it’ll make your taste buds go wild.”
Expecting it to be a disappointment I could get stuck with, I decided on something else.
“I got just the idea,” I said, making my order. “One tender grilled chicken sandwich with mayonnaise on both sides, lettuce, tomato, and a pickle, please. As for sides, I'd like some fries... do you have any variety of styles or just the string style, and one mineral water, please.”
“Both sides” was supposed to mean “on both bun halves.”
“Variety of styles,” Sasha said in reference to the fries. “And coming right up.”
“Merci beaucoup, Sasha,” I said.
Sasha winked and began making the food.

Suddenly something hit my head. It was in something hard, which broke on my head, and out came something hot and sticky.
“What hit me?” I wondered.
Gerta ran to me in a panic.
“Ricky! Are you all right?” Gerta asked in a panic. I turned to her as she said, “I’m sorry! I tripped and the macaroni and cheese flew out of my paws!”
“Quite all right, Gerta,” I said calmly and hugged her. Unknown to me, Sasha was already bringing me my fries and mineral water.
“It looks like Sasha’s brought you something,” Gerta said.
Reminded of what I ordered, I said, “Oh. Oh, yes.”
Then I turned to see and said, “Merci, Sasha.”
“No problem,” Sasha replied before getting back to fixing my grilled chicken sandwich.
“By the way, Ricky, may I ask you something?” Gerta asked.
“Is it about what I think it’s about?” I asked her, afraid she’d ask why I was barefoot like the others.
Gerta nodded and then Sasha brought me my sandwich, and then Gerta pointed.
Turning back to the counter, I replied, “I decided not to wear them today, Gerta. Merci encore, Sasha.”
“Anytime,” Sasha replied.
“Enjoy,” she added as I started eating my sandwich.

Unknown to me, as I was eating, Itchy Itchiford and Bess de Winkerville entered on a lunch date.
“Hi, Itchy. Hi, Bess,” Sasha said to them.
“Huh?” I asked, and then turned to them. Having no intention of repeating or paraphrasing what Sasha said, I just said to them, “Oui, comme elle a dit.”
“‘Yes, like she said,’” Sasha translated.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” Itchy ordered.
Concerned over Itchy getting a disappointing order, I asked him, “Do you even like mayonnaise, Itchy?”
“Why, yes,” he said.
“Well, what drink I’m having is sparkling mineral water, and I don’t think anything with effervescence, you know, gas, is good for dogs because they aren’t capable of burping.”
“We’ve survived it before, Ricky,” he said.
Neither Itchy nor Bess asked why I wasn’t wearing shoes. Maybe they didn’t even notice.
“Having a date, are you two?” I asked.
“Yep,” Itchy said, and Bess nodded.

Suddenly, the phone rang, and Gerta answered.
“Flea Bite,” she said. “Gerta here.”
After a pause, she said, “Hold on a sec.”
She then turned to the others calling, “Mike Rutches! Mike Rutches! Hey, everybody! I want Mike Rutches now!”
The other dogs and I loudly laughed at this. Suddenly, I felt something get in my throat, making me unable to laugh. Sasha, having just heard me choking, looked to see this, turned me around, and thrust her paws around my waist. Out came some of my food that I hadn’t managed to swallow, and it landed on the floor.
“Sorry, y’all!” I shouted after this incident.
“Never mind, Ricky,” said Sasha. “But from now on, try not to laugh with a mouth full. Control your amusement.”
“Sure thing,” I said. “What does Gerta need crutches for? All four of her feet are fine.”
“It turns out Gerta just received a prank call,” said Sasha. “Usually, I’m the one who gets them, but this time, I was busy fixing meals.”
I had no idea what to say next, so I changed the subject.
“You know, for me, it feels funny coming out in a public restaurant barefoot,” I said.
“We do that all the time and it doesn’t feel funny,” said Itchy.
“I know, but it’s just me,” I said.
“You’ll get used to it,” said Sasha.

“Hello, guys,” said a voice.
“Hi, Charlie,” said Sasha.
“Hmm?” I asked, and looked. That voice was from Charlie Barkin. “Oh. Hi, Chuck.”
“‘Chuck’?” Bess asked.
“It’s just an alias Ricky uses for Charlie sometimes,” said Itchy.
“By the way, Ricky…” Charlie began, but I interrupted.
“I know, it’s about what I think it’s about,” I said, thinking he was going to ask about my feet being bare.
“Don’t interrupt,” Charlie said, holding out a letter from Katie. “Listen. You got a letter from Katie.”
So it isn’t what I think it’s about, I thought. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.
“What’s the letter say?” asked Itchy.
I just looked at the letter. It said the following:
“Dear Ricky,
I’ve got some good news. My grandpa is feeling fine, but now, he has to be in a wheelchair. I’m sorry if this is keeping me from being with you because he’ll be needing company for particular reasons. How are you doing with the Barkins, Sasha, and all else? If Jason gives you any more harassing calls taking Stephanie’s death out on you again, don’t yell and don’t do any Rick-rolling. Just hang up. Love, Katie.”
“So, Katie’s grandfather’s all right,” I said.
“That’s wonderful, Ricky,” said Sasha.
“But she still can’t be with me,” I sighed.
“Don’t fret, Ricky,” said Charlie, hugging me. “She still loves you.”
“And so do we,” said Sasha, blowing me a kiss because she is on a side of a counter that kept her from joining the hug.
Not to worry, I’ve just been looking up to Sasha and Charlie as family I couldn’t have had because of the fact that they are dogs and I’m, well, I’m a lion, and I’m more anthropomorphic than they. Of course, I could possibly have them, but it would look like I’d have them as pets; however, Sasha, for instance, is more capable of taking care of herself than I can of myself.
I went back to eating my meal and drinking my water and shared my fries with Charlie.

“Hello, Charlie, Itchy, Ricky,” said a female voice from below.
“Huh?” said the three of us addressed and looked down. It was from a gray mouse with a pink backpack. “Oh, hi, Moxie.”
“Ricky, what happened to your shoes?” Moxie asked.
“I just left them behind,” I said. “I must confess, I did it to try it out, but that was because the rest of you did.”
“Nobody said you had to do it, Ricky,” said Charlie.
“Which added to my willingness to try it out,” I added. “Besides, sometimes I get my feet slightly uncomfortable. However, for some reason, it feels ridiculous coming here in bare feet. Which is it? That this is only my first try and I’m just not used to it, or that I was trying to blend in just on my own accord?”
“I don’t know, Ricky,” said Sasha. “Aren’t you going to finish your meal or are you too full?”
I was reminded. “Thanks for reminding me, Sasha!”
Suddenly, I began to seize my sandwich’s remains, but looking at Sasha, thinking she wouldn’t like such behavior, I then calmed down and ate it more slowly. I then drank my water.
“That’s my water you’re drinking, Ricky,” said Itchy.
“Wha--?” I asked. “I was sure…”
“It’s on the other side of you,” said Sasha, pointing to the glass on my left side.
“Sorry, Itch,” I said and lifted my glass to drink more of my mineral water.
“It looks like you don’t really enjoy mineral water,” said Charlie. “Why do you drink it anyway?”
“In case I ever visit someplace whose citizens don’t drink tap water,” I answered before taking another sip. I then ate a few fries, shared some with Charlie, dropped a small piece of one on the floor for Moxie, and ate some more of them.

A few minutes later, Sasha gave me a check. The sales price was $4.32 for the sandwich, $2.58 for the fries, and $3.30 for the mineral water, so the subtotal was $10.20. With a sales tax rate of 9%, the tax was 92 cents. That added up to $11.12. I took out my debit card and handed it to Sasha. She took it with her.
“Debit, by the way,” I said.
“Then you’d better come back with me,” she said walking over to the computer system for swiping cards. I then entered a PIN number, refused change back, and then, a receipt printed out.
“Receipt please,” I requested.
“Of course,” she said, tore it off the cash register, and handed it back. I then put it inside my wallet and my card back in one of its pockets.
“Merci encore pour ton service,” I said to Sasha.
“De rien, Ricky,” she said, and then I hugged her.
“You can come back anytime you like,” she said, hugging me back.
“Anytime,” I said and let go. “À bientot!”
“Au revoir!” Sasha called out.
I then waved good-bye to Charlie, Itchy, and Bess.
“By the way, did Moxie already leave?” I asked.
“Yeah, she had to return to her family,” replied Charlie.
“Quel dommage,” I said. “I was going to say good-bye to her.”
As I was leaving, I passed Shadow who was also entering to have a bite to eat.
“Hello, Shadow,” I said.
“Hi, Ricky,” he replied, entering the café. “What happened to your shoes?”
“I left them behind, and I’m going to keep coming to the Flea Bite without them until I’m used to it.”
“I see.”
Anyway, I was on my way back home, and I was glad I tried what I tried.

THE END