chicken sandwiches and little buddies

In the summer of 2019, Popeye’s chicken sandwiches were all the rage. The fact that the fast-food chicken chain had never offered a sandwich before kinda blew my mind, but it was suddenly the hottest thing in food. My husband tried it before I did. I think I had somewhere else to be for dinner, he was on his own and went for it.

He reported that it was, in fact, worth the hype. I would soon try one myself, and agreed that they were very good – juicy, crispy, just a little heat on the spicy version.

Typically on Fridays and Saturdays, we go out to eat or get carryout. The Sandwich became a go-to if we couldn't agree on anything else. (You know the discussion. "What should we have for dinner?" "I don't know... but not that.")



....



Our dog loved chicken. It's possible Link would have loved beef more, but we rarely eat any. So chicken was the ultimate treat, right up there with those cubes of dried beef liver and peanut butter Cheerios. I frequently poach and shred chicken breast for use in dinner (enchiladas, soup, tacos, sandwiches) and the gristly bits usually got rinsed off and given to our 15-lb fluffball of a maltipoo, who gobbled them with the enthusiasm only a dog can muster.

He would appear at my side while I was standing at the cutting board, smelling it, knowing I was a sucker for his little face staring up at me. We never fed him from the table, but if I was cooking, it was hard to say no.



....



In 2020, it was all carryout, all the time. Our weekend routine shifted: what restaurants were doing online ordering and carryout, how easy it was to get them to bring it to your car or go in and grab things without human contact. We kept patronizing restaurants, but the how changed. We accumulated so many cellophane-wrapped plasticware packets of forks, spoons, knives, flimsy napkins and sometimes salt and pepper that they jammed the drawer I shoved them in. We filled the garbage with styrofoam and plastic carryout containers. We stayed home. We ate a lot of chicken sandwiches.



…..



We adopted our little buddy in 2014 and he was the immediate love of our lives. We never were very sure of his age - maybe 2 or 3, maybe older? He fit into our lives like he'd always been there, staring at whatever snacks we had on the couch, cuddling in bed, rubbing his face and head against your legs. He rarely barked, but would make whining noises like a deflating balloon. His name was Link, after the Legend of Zelda character, and he was also Little Buddy, Buddy, Sweetie, Linkasaurus, Linkypoo, Sir Whinesalot, Fuzzy Butt and the million other names you call a beloved pet.

Link did not adjust well to both of us being home all the time. He was used to being alone during the week, or having one of us there, but not both. After work we usually found him asleep in the walk-in closet upstairs, lying on whatever clothes had been discarded there. But that's because he was alone. The house was his then. When we were both there, day after day, working on laptops, he seemed to feel he could not leave us alone. He would wander aimlessly around the first floor and whine anxiously until we encouraged him to lay down.

At the same time, working from home for the majority of 2020 and 2021 proved grimly fortuitous. Our sweet baby dog was showing signs of his indeterminate age. He scared the crap out of us in the summer of 2020 when he had his first seizure; the second was a full six months later, but after that they got closer together. His back got messed up, his walking slowed, his brain seemed fuzzier. His appetite got weaker, but he still loved chicken.



….



Slowly, restaurants reopened for dine-in; we even dared go on a vacation in the summer of 2021 and spent most of that time outside. It was post-vaccine and pre-delta and we felt freer and safer for a little while. I pet every dog in Key West that would let me, and I took pictures of the free-range chickens that roamed the streets.

My mom kept Link for the week, and while she could tell he wasn’t quite his spunky previous self, she always loved having him. He got so many pets, treats, and so much love.



…..



Despite his decline, he was our sweet, cuddly, chicken-loving boy. His appetite waned, and he was losing weight, but we could almost always get him to eat chicken. He ate so much chicken. Chicken-flavored kibble. Bits from dinner prep. Freeze-dried chicken treats. Chicken and rice for upset stomachs. As 2021 went on, deli chicken started making an appearance — anything to get him to eat.

I would sit on the floor next to him, trying to tempt him with a number of foods - cheese, a tortilla chip, and always, poached chicken. A little smorgasbord of human food. We celebrated when he ate more than a few bites, laughed a little when he would only accept the freshest cooked chicken, still warm from the stove. The supplements and pills increased, but he kept getting smaller and sicker.



In December of 2021, there came a day where we couldn't do any more.

The last thing Link eagerly, knowingly ate was chicken. I had just cooked it – a fresh tender, just for him – and fed it to him by hand as he lay in his cushy bed. Two days later, we said goodbye, and sobbed on our drive home from the vet, with no dog in our laps.

We got home and stared at each other, heartbroken, without words. The house felt empty, and so were our stomachs. It was getting late and there was nothing I felt like cooking.

I went to Popeye's, holding it together behind my mask long enough to order two spicy chicken sandwiches and some fries, and returned home to eat in silence, eyes red, our juicy crunchy chicken filling our sad stomachs.



...



Over a year later, every time I shred chicken for dinner, I imagine him there next to me, the friendly furry ghost still begging for chicken. I toss the grisly bits instead, hoping he'll forgive me. And when we eat the still-delicious spicy chicken sandwich from Popeye's, I flash back to that night for a second, and promise we'll never forget our bestest boy.