Family Happiness Read Online Free PDF Page A

drank his water and always spilled it. His attitude at Sunday breakfast was that of an aggressive beggar, doubtless because in his home setting he was denied the sight of human beings eating chicken livers or smoked salmon. He could not be shut up in the kitchen, since he made such heart-piercing whimpers. He made a high screeching noise when he yawned.
    He could not be given one of the oversized dog biscuits he loved because he slavered crumbs all over Wendy’s rugs, and his cowhide bone made him drool. Henry, Jr., had not trained him to behave in any particular way in a house, although out of doors he obeyed any and every command concerning streets, traffic, and heeling. After an initial period of jumping on Wendy and making himself unpleasant about the scent of the smoked salmon, he generally flopped under the table, rested his head on Andreya’s foot, and waited for whatever she might feed him.
    Andreya had feelings about dogs. Her vegetarianism was an outgrowth of her belief that all animals had souls. She had confided this to Polly one evening, and when Polly told Henry Demarest he said, “Why doesn’t she feel that beets and celery have just as much right to a soul?” Andreya believed that she and Kirby communed in a mystical, inter-species way, and she could deprive him of nothing. It was well known that she fed him salmon on toast points under the table. This made Wendy somewhat frantic but she was forced to keep silent. Andreya could be spoken about , but she could not be spoken to . Her sweet, slightly bashful European reserve made Wendy nervous.
    â€œHi, guys,” said Henry, Jr., to his family. “Get down, Kirby.” Kirby was unaccountably drawn to Wendy and he liked to jump up and try to put his paws on her shoulders. He had just been taken for a run in the park, and his wet, dirty paws were full of shredded leaves. Henry and Andreya never wore coats, no matter how cold it was. They wore wool jackets, and their cheeks were blazing from their walk.
    â€œMake Kenny behave,” Wendy said. “Good morning, darling and Andreya.” She kissed her son and daughter-in-law. Henry, Sr., clasped his son’s shoulder. Their shoulders bumped for an instant. This was their embrace.
    Everyone trooped into the dining room. Kirby padded in after them and collapsed under Andreya’s chair. As usual, the conversation began with Henry, Sr.’s disapproving of the smoked salmon. Pete and Dee-Dee sat politely still, with evil grins on their faces. Kirby was their lunch entertainment. If they took off their shoes he could be counted on to edge toward them and tickle their feet by sniffing at their socks.
    â€œIt is the exact equivalent of cigarette smoking,” Henry, Sr., began, referring to the salmon. “Polly, I don’t understand how you can let Pete and Dee-Dee near it.”
    â€œDaddy, this salmon is very lightly smoked,” said Polly. “Mother and I have been all over the city to comparison-shop. This is not only the most lightly smoked, but the most lightly cured. It’s barely been smoked at all.”
    â€œThat’s even worse,” said Henry, Sr. “Fish flesh is the ideal breeding ground for parasites. At least smoking kills them.”
    â€œYes, Daddy,” said Polly. “But this salmon is adequately smoked, although not oversmoked.”
    â€œAnd washed in pure soap and water,” mumbled Henry, Jr., but his mouth was already full and no one heard him.
    â€œI, of course, would revise this entire menu,” Henry, Sr., said. “I worry about you eating such very old, unfertilized, dead eggs.” He had been saying this for years but nothing had ever changed. At his place was a little plate of goat’s-milk cheese, the kind that is wrapped up in vine leaves. This he spread on toast points, and watched with disapproval while the rest of the family tucked into the smoked salmon and ancient eggs he considered so