Photo by Faith McDonald on Unsplash

“I never had trouble with names. You spend some time with them until you get to know them. Get to know what she’s like. Princess here? She was just so expectant to be waited upon.” Belinda cuddled her teacup poodle against her neck. “I had to name you Princess, didn’t I, sweetheart?”

The dog wriggled out of Belinda’s arms and returned to the glass dish that served as her food bowl.

Patty stretched over her nine month pregnant belly to pet the dog’s pink bow-covered head. The creature growled. Patty withdrew her hand and took a moment to catch her breath. Breathing was becoming her second toughest challenge.

Her third challenge was to have enough energy to get out of the house to visit with friends. In six years, she had never missed Belinda’s barbeque. Not wanting to be one of those pregnant ladies, she had to get up and go. She forced herself to dress in the most flattering maternity bag-dress she had. The fifteen minutes to squeeze her swollen feet into her Keds took her last moments from any attempt at applying makeup. Her hair, brittle since the fifth month of her pregnancy, remained in a ponytail.

She asked, “So I have to wait until my baby is… a teenager to name him?”

“Well, you can always change his name. Like if he is very brave, you can go with maybe Danger, or Risk. Great names.” Belinda poured herself another cup of coffee.

Patty could not take her eyes from the crystal-brown liquid. She hadn’t had caffeine in weeks. She couldn’t. One cup at six in the morning on Monday meant no sleep until Wednesday. She said, “I think we have to complete the birth information before I can leave the birth center.“

Belinda scoffed. “Are you sure? It would be a shame to name him Burbank or something inane when he’s really a Zippy.”

“Yes, that would be a shame.” Patty rubbed her wet finger across the rim of her glass, anticipating the high-pitched whistle. Yet her finger only slid around and left drips of virgin pineapple daiquiri down the side of her glass. She pressed her lips together. “And you have had your three dogs for how long?”

“Well, let’s see. Princess is thirteen. I don’t know how many knee surgeries I’ve paid for her. Just keep gluing her together. You’ll see after you have that little one. You’ll do anything to keep them alive. She almost died six times during the last surgery. And the vet comes out of the theatre and says, she’s not going to make it. And I told him, that’s my baby, you asshat. You do whatever it takes! You’ll see.”

Belinda added rum to her coffee as Patty tried to recall the last time she had alcohol. Belinda said, “Skeeter is three now. I got him from the adoption place on Greco Street. You know? The one with the dog bone sign? No. Well, that’s the place. I didn’t know about it when I adopted Quest. He’s eight years old now, the cutey! Look at him sleeping! I guess you can hear him! That signature French Bulldog snore! It doesn’t bother me. I think it’s adorable. But I always recommend the place on Greco now.”

Patty struggled to find anything to say. She had never adopted a pet and feigned interest with polite nods and a tight smile. All she thought about was the life inside her. This would be her first child. She and Glen had been trying for two years. She never considered knee surgeries. What could she say? That she was happily married? That she didn’t need a pet. She felt guilty that she had Glen at home. “It must be hard raising them all alone,” she offered.

“Ah, the world of a single mother… Luckily you have that baby daddy of yours.”

“My husband,” Patty said. She craned her neck to look out the sliding doors to see Glen on the patio. He was chatting about last night’s baseball game. She wanted to go to him, but was afraid if she stood, she would pee herself. Again. Her biggest challenge. She willed Glen to come rescue her.

Belinda swallowed her sip of coffee and said, “Right. The male who put sperm in you. He seems like he’ll stay around. He isn’t even looking at Theresa. They all do. But he’s not. And I can clearly see her nipples through that shift she’s barely wearing.”

From the living room, Deirdre called out, “Does Glen hit you? They all do.”

“No…” Patty said. Do they all do that? Glen was a sweetheart.

“Well, he will,” Deirdre said as she took the seat next to Belinda. “That’s their nature. Men. Ugh. I have no use for ‘em. You have your pet now. Just skip town.”

Patty frowned. She was tired. She had to pee. Then Deirdre’s words sunk in. She said, “My baby is not a pet.”

“Will you feed it?” Belinda asked.

“Of course.”

“Give it a place to sleep?” Belinda asked.

“I don’t understand.” Patty took a sip of her daiquiri. It was too warm. Urine snuck out. She was thankful Glen had stocked up on her Depends.

Belinda laughed. “Of course you understand. You’ll buy it little sweaters?”

Patty agreed. Sort of. “He’ll have clothing.“

“And toys? Lots of toys?” Deirdre jumped in with her own questions.

Patty thought the question ludicrous. “We already got him stuffed animals. And this beautiful mobile for his crib. With planes and birds. It plays Wonderful World.“

“Lots of squeaky toys is my advice,” Belinda said. She pursed her lips together. “They all love those.”

“And you’ll train him?” Deirdre asked. “I sent both my rotties for training. It’s imperative. You don’t want your little bastard biting people.”

“Imperative? Like school?” Patty asked.

“They have trainers for humans?” Deirdre asked.

“School.” Patty had, in the past, wondered why Deirdre never married. And why Deirdre didn’t graduate from high school. It’s funny how a virgin daiquiri can make things so clear, she considered. “School,” she said again.

Deirdre nodded. “So, you’ll train him? He’s a pet. No difference.”

Belinda jumped up, almost tripped over Princess, and rushed to the living room. Another of her dogs, the big one that was allegedly a Labrador who she called Skeeter, accosted her as she riffled through an end table. She returned to the kitchen and flopped a photo album on the table. “Here are photos from all Princess’ birthdays. We always have a party. Invite all her friends from puppy school.”

“You sent invitations?” Patty asked, afraid to touch the book. Afraid to catch something. She watched as Belinda turned the pages and described each party. Patty was particularly impressed with the clown and the magician.

Belinda said, “I had the invitations printed. It can be expensive.” She tapped a page to illustrate the embossing of last year’s invitation.

“These are lovely,” Patty said. She meant it, but struggled to add any other comment. She asked, “Why didn’t you have children? I bet you’d be a great mom.“

Belinda gasped. “I am a mom. Just because my babies can’t drive a car or go to college does not make them any less my children.”

Patty felt the dryness of the skin on her forehead as she frowned. She attempted to change the subject but had nothing in her mind but cribs and diapers and leaking urine. She said, “I finished my Lamaze classes last week.”

Deirdre snapped, “Lamaze? What’s that? Using a shock collar? I don’t believe in that.“

Patty craned her neck to look for Glen. He was no longer on the patio. She said, “It’s a class to train me to get through the birthing process.”

Belinda closed the photo album and returned to her seat. She gulped the last of her coffee and asked, “Birthing process? How hard can that be?”

Patty refused to answer that one. She honestly didn’t know. But her mother had assured her passing out was forgivable and expected. So was screaming, cursing, demanding a divorce. Patty winced. She wiped her hands on her bag dress and craned her neck to see if she could catch Glen’s attention. She waved at him. He nodded to their signal that she had had enough. That she had to lie down and get her elephant legs up. That she had filled her adult diaper with urine.

Not knowing what else to say, she could only offer another piece of her reality. She said, “I’ve chosen to breastfeed.”

Belinda groaned. “Oh, dear. I tried that with Princess. She just wouldn’t lock on.”

Deirdre assured her, “They don’t like milk, really.”

Belinda said, “Agreed. I was better off using a food processor to grind up some liver.”

“Or chicken,” Deidre said.

“Yes. Much better,” Belinda agreed. She pointed at Patty. “Someday, you’ll get a dog or cat and become fulfilled.”

“I’ve had a dog. And two cats. When I was a kid. I love animals,” Patty said. “I just don’t think it’s the same thing.”

“Of course it is. I know. I’ve had, let’s see, sixteen dogs.” She stopped and counted on her fingers. “No, seventeen dogs. I know what it’s like to be a mother. No one can deny that.”

Patty thought about her cracked nipples. She was pretty sure adopting a dog did not make you pee your pants or suffer stretch marks or cracked nipples. She thought about Glen. About the moment she showed him the pregnancy test results. She felt her face flush. She said, “He’ll be going to college.”

Deirdre blurted, “Oh, my Casey went to kitty college. She’s got a PhD in laser chase.”

Patty shifted in her chair. She had finished, let’s be honest, her pineapple juice in a fancy glass. She was dying for a shot of rum. She said, “I don’t think that’s the same thing. Kitty college.”

Deirdre took a swig of her beer and asked, “Do you know how expensive kitty college is? I’m still paying those loans.”

“What we do for our babies! Student loans are the worst,” Belinda said.

“And the insurance!” Deirdre said. “I’m glad we had it when my Boris got parvo.”

“That cost you what? Ten thousand?” Belinda asked.

“Fifteen,” Deirdre said as she leaned back in her chair to regard the ceiling. She sniffled. “We lost Boris a year ago now.”

“I had no idea,” Patty said.

Belinda reached for Deirdre’s arm and patted it gently. “I saw your post. Did you finish the memorial statue?”

“We did. It was worth it. We put it on the hill on the side of the house. The one past the driveway? I can look at it every morning.” Deirdre dabbed her eyes with her cocktail napkin. She took another sip of her beer.

Patty noticed Glen was offering goodbyes and shaking hands. Dear God, Glen. You’ll see them next year, she thought. She asked, “How old was he? Boris?”

“Fourteen,” Deirdre said.

Belinda said, “You’ll understand, Patty, when you lose your son.”

“Lose?” Patty asked as she watched Glen reach for the sliding door handle. Glen, hurry, she thought. As the urine seeped out, she let go and filled the diaper. There goes the pineapple juice.

“Lose, Patty,” Belinda said. “When he dies. They live until fourteen or so. If you’re lucky.”

“But it’s okay,” Deirdre said. “After we lost Boris, we adopted Garcia. He’s adorable. A Whippet. I love that breed.”

“They die. You get another. It’s part of being a parent,” Belinda said. “You’ll see.”

“Ready, hun?” Glen asked as he shut the sliding door behind him.

Patty struggled to get her feet under her. “Yes,” she said, “I’m feeling tired.”

Glen reached to help her find her footing. He rubbed her back gently and said, “Well, ladies, I’m afraid we will take our leave. My lady needs her rest.”

Deirdre took the last slug of her beer, excusing herself and taking a wide path around Glen. “Yeah, nice seeing you both,” she said as she opened the sliding door and replaced Glen’s position on the patio. She leaned towards the glass to watch Glen.

Belinda stood and offered Patty a gentle hug. She said, “I don’t know what being pregnant is like. But you smell just like the rug in my bedroom. I understand well enough.”