What We Keep Is Not Always What Will Stay by Amanda Cockrell Page A

very loud.
    They kept it going all the way through pumpkin pie, just like they always do, and on into the kitchen with the dishes. I was having the best time. My family is very opinionated, but they’re well read, and we aren’t above cheating either. I learned a long time ago that when Ben says that “studies show” something-or-other, you have to ask him if it’s a real study or one he just made up because he’s convinced studies would show that if someone actually did one. He’ll tell you if he’s made it up, but not unless you ask.
    Everyone was bumbling around in the kitchen, scraping plates and waving their arms and generally having a good time, while Cookie and Cupcake, the spaniels, wandered around underfoot waiting for someone to drop something. Grandpa Joe dismembered the turkey carcass and dumped it in the trash, and Wuffie packed the rest of the meat into Tupperware. Mom was washing the good china. Ben sidled up next to her and started loading the dishwasher with the other stuff, and she didn’t even glare at him. Grandma Alice and Felix and I got the rest of the things off the table. We’d just folded up the tablecloth when there was one of those sounds that anybody who has a dog knows. We all turned around to look at Cookie, gagging and hacking up blood and gristle on the kitchen floor.
    “Oh my God!” Mom dropped the dish sponge.
    “Damn it, it looks like she got in the bones.” Grandpa Joe pried Cookie’s jaws open and Ben stuck his hand down her throat. The garbage can lid was standing open and there were turkey bones all over the floor. I made a dive for Cupcake and fought her for the bone in her mouth. Turkey bones are terribly dangerous for dogs. They can splinter and puncture their intestines.
    Ben pulled a bone out of Cookie’s throat but she went on gagging.
    “Wasn’t anybody watching them?” Wuffie said.
    “Can’s got a lid,” Grandpa Joe said. “Apparently the little bitches have learned to open it.”
    Cookie started staggering around.
    Ben stuck his hand down Cookie’s throat again and she bit him, sinking a tooth right through his palm. “Goddammit!”
    “Do something! She’s choking!” Mom cried. Cookie was lying down now and her tongue was turning black.
    “She’s got to go to the emergency vet,” Wuffie said. “Somebody help me with her.”
    “I got her.” Felix knelt down beside Cookie and scooped her up in his arms. She was dribbling blood out of her mouth.
    “I’ll drive,” Mom said. “I know where it is.”
    “Call me when you get there!” Wuffie said, her hands to her mouth as they went out the door.
    Ben looked at his hand and started running water on it from the kitchen faucet.
    “I’ll get you some antibiotic,” Grandpa Joe said.
    “Do you think Cupcake ought to go too?” Wuffie asked. Cupcake wagged her tail at the sound of her name, looking dopey and hopeful.
    “I don’t think she actually ate any,” I said, because Wuffie looked so worried. “Maybe we ought to take her, though. Ben and I could go.”
    “You really think we need to?” Ben asked. He rubbed some of Grandpa Joe’s antibiotic into his hand.
    “Yes.” I got Cupcake’s leash and she danced around panting when she saw it. Ooooh, ride!
    “Dog looks fine to me,” Grandpa Joe observed.
    “Joe, let them take her, please,” Wuffie said.
    “Okay, sure. We’ll go.” Ben got his keys out of his pocket. When we got into the car, Cupcake tried to get in his lap and he shoved her at me. “Christ, what an evening. Hold on to her.”
    The emergency vet is across the valley, a ten-minute drive. Ben didn’t say anything else till we got there. Mom’s car was already parked outside and we got Cupcake out of ours and went in. Mom was sitting in the waiting room with Felix, and he had his arm around her. They didn’t even spring apart the way guilty couples do in movies. Mom looked up and sniffled. “They’re working on her.” She looked at Ben’s hand, which was still