Page 76 of Geeky Pucking Orc

“Of course he does.” Kathy beamed at me. “I changed the menu around a bit. Hope you like chili and cornbread.”

“I love chili and cornbread.” I looked around the room then saw something truly amazing. I made a beeline to one of the walls. “This is an incredible picture. How are the dogs able to sit like that? How are they holding the cards in their paws? Are they going to eat the cards or play a game with them?”

Abby’s eyes widened and she shook her head. In warning? For what? I loved dogs. Maybe I could discover where her mother purchased such a painting so I could have a similar one in my own home, in a place of honor above my sofa.

“I’m sure if they had opposable thumbs, dogs could do a lot of things as well as play poker.” Abby’s mother walked to stand beside me with her hands folded in front of her waist.

“It’s as if you two are in a museum looking at a Monet.” Abby sighed. “You’re getting one of these for Christmas now, Bwat. We moved a million times during my childhood, carting this thing all around the county. It’s Mom’s favorite. She likes it even more than that blue plaid sofa with the cup-holders in the arm rests.”

“That was a lovely piece of furniture,” Kathy said. “Rest in peace, blue plaid sofa. Thankfully my dogs-playing-poker picture outlasted you.”

“I like the dog with the visor best,” I commented, feeling I should discuss the finer points of this work of art. “The one with the cigar is interesting, but I don’t think smoking is healthy for dogs or humans.”

Kathy nodded. “Cassius Marcellus Coolidge paired the original of these paintings between 1894 and 1910. There were eighteen paintings in the series, eleven of which depict dogs playing games at a card table. In 1903, Brown & Bigalow commissioned sixteen of the paintings to advertise cigars. Over a hundred years later, other versions and even photographic reenactments are still being sold. While others may disagree, I see these paintings and prints as a vibrant symbol of American culture.”

“That is fascinating. I am very interested in different human cultures. Would I be able to purchase these paintings? I am sure they are very expensive,” I added.

Abby snorted, and her mother glared at her before turning back to me. “There are prints available for very reasonable prices. I’ve never thought about it before, but it would be nice to have a copy of each of the eleven original dog paintings.”

I glanced at Abby. “Perhaps just one of the paintings. I’m not sure I have enough space on my walls for eleven.” And I was pretty sure Abby would never come to my apartment again if I had these on every flat surface.

Kathy tilted her head. “It probably seems silly, but this ridiculous painting has kept me grounded through times of trouble. It’s a symbol of the gritty, salt-of-the-earth Americana that we belong to. Striving. No matter the setback, always trying to make a better life for us and our children. Lots of people may choose to have other artwork, but for me, a picture of dogs playing poker will always symbolize where I came from and how hard I’ve worked to get where I am.”

Abby stepped up to stand beside us, mirroring our museum-tourist pose. “Still not a fan, but I understand what you’re saying, Mom. We’re a nation of people who love whimsy and the collective experience of fighting for survival, of climbing just one or two more rungs on the ladder to success so our children will be better off than we were. And in the midst of all that struggle, we love and play and laugh. It’s a depiction of our lives in metaphor.”

I didn’t understand a lot of what she was saying, but I nodded anyway.

“We are like the different breeds of the print,” Kathy added. “Some of us wear visors. Some of us smoke cigars. Some of us are better poker players than others. But we are all around the table together, playing the game and enjoying each other’s company. Win or lose.”

Now that I understood. Life was a gamble. But winning didn’t mean anything if you didn’t enjoy the game or do something meaningful with your winnings.

“There are so many versions of this painting,” Kathy continued. “In one, the St. Bernard has a mediocre hand, and the other dogs are wondering whether he is bluffing or not. There is one where a bulldog is slipping a card under the table to the dog next to him. But while some see these paintings as depicting mistrust or deception, I see them as deciding who to trust in life, who to ally yourself with. “

“I like the bulldog slipping his buddy the ace,” Abby said. “It may be cheating, but sometimes the deck is stacked against us from the very beginning. If everyone is cheating within the framework of the game, then cheating to win is just leveling the playing field.”

“A slippery slope of ethics, my dear.” Kathy smiled at her daughter and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I don’t disagree, but when you’re going to fight the system, you have to be ready to pay the price when you’re caught.”

I eyed Abby with affection. Did she ever want to fight the system? Buck the trends? Take a risk and do what she wanted even if it might jeopardize the security she’d spent a lifetime focusing with laser certainty on?

Risk didn’t need to involve cheating at cards, it could be trusting your team to help with a shared goal, or taking time off work to explore new places. Or trusting your heart when your past had made you afraid to trust at all.

Or working hard at something you weren’t naturally good at because it mattered to you.

We stood for a moment, each absorbed in our own thoughts as we stared at the dogs playing poker. Then Kathy stepped away from her daughter, clapping her hands together.

“Enough philosophy. Let’s eat. Abby, you open up one of those bottles of wine. Bwat, you put that ham…in the fridge? Pantry? Wherever you find space for it. And I’ll dish up the chili and take the cornbread out of the oven.”

37

BWAT

“Itold you the ham was an appropriate gift.”

We were on our way back from dinner, and I was more than a bit smug over Kathy’s enthusiasm over my offerings. The flowers and wine had been well received, but it was the ham she truly loved the most–even more than the Starbuck’s gift cards.

“You could have given her a clod of dirt and she would have loved it.” Abby smiled over at me. “Mom adores you. She liked you before she met you, but you’ve totally won her over.”

“With the ham,” I said.