The Ice Cream Truck and the Not-So-Smart Canine

…Ah now summertime’s here babe

Need something to keep you cool

Better look out now, though

Dave’s got something for you

Tell you what it is…*

Many a year ago, on a hot summer day when the children were small, the sun was bright, and the air thick (and heavy, and disgusting) with humidity, we open on the youngsters playing in the air-conditioned comfort (it was actually working at that time) of the house. Suddenly, with a faint sound in the distance that slowly grew louder, everything changed, and the emotional rollercoaster of a lifetime began its slow, inexorable climb to the top of the drop.

The children had *just* achieved Pavlovian level for the ice cream truck jingle. And they were ahead of the curve to boot. “ICE CREAM! MOM! DAD! IIIIIIIICE CREAM! CAN WE GET SOME?!?!” as they ran hell-bent- for-election to the door. The dogs, naturally, got excited as well – they have no idea why, but hey, it looks like fun to go bananas, so join they did. Screaming, stumbling, barking, and running – here we go.

One child reached the door (I have no idea which one, but it was probably Sofia) and flung it open, while the other followed out the door and onto the front lawn.

It must be noted that our driveway is more than 100 feet long, so one must get to the end of it before the ice cream truck pulls away if one wants frozen treats. We know this firsthand because we once watched – in absolute horror and disbelief – as the ice cream truck drove away from us without us getting said frozen treats. To suggest that the children were apoplectic would be the same level of understatement as suggesting that losing all engine power in a jet at 30,000 feet is an unfortunate development. As a result of that incident, when we hear that damn jingle, we move without thinking about anything except getting to the end of that driveway in time for the driver to see us.

Unfortunately, young children don’t think much anyway – especially when ice cream is nigh. Combine that with the fact that children rarely if ever consider silly things like consequences of their actions, and you have the crux of today’s story. You see, after hurtling themselves through the door, neither one had the presence of mind to actually CLOSE said door. What followed is a chain of events that will be recited at family dinners and holiday parties for generations to come.

At the time, we had two dogs – the “Original Two,” as it were. Nina was the matriarch – incredibly intelligent and as cranky as an old lady who just lost to her nemesis at bridge. Simon, meanwhile…God bless Simon. Many beings have been described this way, but Simon, sweet as pie (unless there was a beagle nearby…) was, truly, as dumb as that box of rocks. He also possessed a significant amount of wanderlust – we DID find him in our yard just before a snowstorm. He was lured by the doggy siren song of The Jeana (she has a rep among all the canines in the land for being the one to go to when lost, hungry, looking for a change of scenery, etc.).

Simon was right on the heels of the children, only he was much faster and, while he didn’t know particularly WHERE he was going, he was going to get there as fast as possible. He flew by the children, who stopped in their tracks, looked at one other, and began wailing. Meanwhile, Simon had zipped past the ice cream truck (some claim he actually jumped over it, but there’s no proof of that). The ice cream man, clearly a parent of humans and/or animals, made the split-second decision to chase after Simon on foot (he deserves a medal, by the way). Jeana and I ran outside to see 1) the children bawling, screaming such things as, “We’ll never see Simon again,” and “We don’t want ice cream anymore!” (the latter of which was a bald-faced lie and they knew it); 2) Simon disappearing up the street; and 3) the ice cream man in hot, fruitless pursuit of the yellow (lab) meteor.

We immediately joined the insanity by launching our own pursuit of the gone dog, yelling his name as we ran up the street (Jeana sprinting, Dave gasping – hey, it’s not easy to run and shout simultaneously). The neighbors have not been interviewed for this story, but I am certain that at least some of them think about it when they see us (and laugh inside) as we walk the always-leashed descendants of the Original Two.

Alas, none of us caught up with Simon, and the three adults (well, Jeana and the ice cream man, anyway) slowly trekked back to the truck and our house. We were all pleasantly surprised that no one had raided the truck – perhaps the witnesses were so captivated by the events unfolding before them that they decided to wait and see how it turned out. The children choked down their ice cream between sobs while Jeana and I assured them that Simon would be back (as we exchanged glances that suggested Simon may NOT be back).

The tale ended with a whimper, as we received a call later that afternoon from a local animal shelter. They had Simon – he had apparently made the most of his day, ending up in someone’s yard, playing with their dog until the no-fun police came to take him away. To this day, when we see a yellow lab mix, we wonder if Simon also squeezed in some extra-curricular activity during his freedom romp. Inevitably, however, the lab mixes demonstrate some level of basic intelligence, assuring us that they are absolutely not related to that sweet, dumb boy who always loved to cause trouble without really meaning to do so. Plus he was fixed, so...yeah. Poor Simon - the boy who wanted to be good...

*John Brim (1953). Ice Cream Man [recorded by Van Halen]. On Van Halen [CD]. Hollywood, CA: Warner Records, Inc. (1978)