Chapter 3. Snoop and the Professor: The Taco Truck
After discovering the alligator yesterday, I decided that I needed to sleep the rest of the day and all night and that’s just what I did. I awakened this morning ready to go; literally ready to go. Mom had already been at work for an hour but the Professor was still asleep. I sat up and stared at him, occasionally cocking my head in the right direction until he finally rolled over. Works every time, I have trained the Professor so well. The Professor was in a good mood because Mom had made coffee before she left. He says Mom is the best. He’s always saying that. It must be a Professor thing. The Professor has at least one cup of coffee in the morning before he does anything else. After his first cup, I whined just enough to get him to hurry because as I said earlier, I was ready to go. The Professor is so easy to manipulate.
As soon as I was out the door, I had to poop, so I let it go. The Professor laughed at me. I will poop anywhere. In Indiana, I like to poop in front yards, especially when the owners of the house are sitting out front to watch me. The Professor just shakes his head at me as he picks up my mess with his plastic bags. When you have to go, you have to go. However, I am very particular where I pee. I have to find the right road sign, tree, bush, or clump of grass to pee. The Professor just doesn’t understand. It’s a beagle thing.
When we got to the walking path today, I tried to go back to the scene of the alligator crime from yesterday but the Professor took me in a different direction. That alligator will have to wait for another day. Not long into the walk, I met a turtle. I had seen Indiana turtles but this one was bigger and the Professor said its shell was not as pretty. I walked all around it, barked at it, and jumped back when its little head popped out from under the plain black shell. The turtle finally turned around and walked toward the small pond, so I decided it wasn’t very interesting anymore and we went on with our walk.
We came out of the trees to a main road and we walked along the front of the houses. On the other side of the street were the offices of the Florida Department of Health. The Professor explained what that was but, as usual, I didn’t listen to the professor. Then, my nose got a whiff of a familiar smell, and I couldn’t wait to get to it. Yes! I could smell beef, pork, and chicken. We finally found the source of the smell; the Professor called it the Taco Truck. It was near the parking lot of the Department of Health. The Professor loves street tacos and he started talking in Spanish to the man outside the truck. It is very rare that the Professor will actually speak a little Spanish and after a couple of minutes, they started speaking English. Thank goodness, I couldn’t understand the Spanish. The only Spanish I know is when the Professor says “Vamos a caminar.” That means we are going on a walk.
The man was a Florida State University graduate and an immigration lawyer. I recognized Florida State. That’s where Mom works. I had no idea what an immigration lawyer was. The man said that he helps his mother and father with their Taco Truck on Thursdays. The smell of the beef, chicken, and pork was so intense it was driving me crazy. I lay down so I could continue to soak up the wonderful aroma. The man said his parents had come to the country in the 1980s from some place called Nicaragua. The Professor was excited because he has been to Nicaragua and even wrote a book about it. I haven’t read his book and probably never will. The man said he was born a few years later in Miami. That means he is about the same age as my Bubby Josh. He said his father had run a successful lawn and yard business for about 20 years. About 10 years ago, his dad was no longer physically able to do yard work. So, he helped his mom and dad start a Taco Truck business. He said his mom was the best cook ever and I agreed based upon the smell that was driving me crazy!
The Taco Truck would not open for another hour or so, but the Professor sampled the Nacatamales. The Professor said that he had eaten Nacatamales every Friday when he stayed with a family in Granada on the edge of Lake Nicaragua. I had no idea where that is. The Professor said Nacatamales are big tamales with rice, potatoes, vegetables, and pork in the middle of masa dough all wrapped and steamed in banana leaves. I was so jealous I had to whine a bit. The Professor ignored me. So I proceeded to pee on the tire of the Taco Truck right in front of the man. The Professor yelled at me, the man laughed at me. They talked a lot about immigration while I tried to doze off and dream of tacos. The man and the Professor were frustrated about the vast amounts of misinformation and disinformation that were passed off as facts about immigration. I have no idea what misinformation and disinformation are but they can’t be good. The Professor and the man agreed on the necessity and importance of more immigrants for the country now and in the future. Were it not for the wonderful smell from the Taco Truck, I would be totally bored. We finally got back home. I ate my very plain dog food and then decided to take a nap on the cool floor because the Professor had started working on an article for a journal. He tends to ignore me when he’s writing. I dreamed of my Indiana friend, Mary, feeding me beef, pork, and chicken tacos.
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