The reason Laurent fought tooth and nail to make Mushy Baby's Drift Country Bar and Restaurant a pet-friendly establishment should be obvious.
He's a dedicated pet lover himself.
"My fur babies give me all the respite from the chaos I experience as the bartender. Sure, our customers are generally nice to talk to… but some of them… they can be rowdy. Either they've had a really really bad day, or their attitudes needed a complete overhaul."
That is his justification for keeping pets himself at home. He explained it on the day after he got his proposal approved.
Now, then.
Let's get it on with the show, shall we?
As usual, Aurora sits at the usual front-row spot, eating on tonight's specials while we are serenading everyone in attendance with our set list, which is now 75% originals and 25% covers.
While we're performing our instrumental parts that require masterful manipulation of our guitars' strings, we notice something on the second-row tables.
Whenever we're strumming, some of the patrons just sneeze.
Another strum, another sneeze.
Thankfully, the sneezing patrons cover their noses and mouths with their own handkerchiefs as an act of courtesy.
What is even more peculiar with the sneezes is how they coincidentally form some kind of harmony and cadence whenever we do our guitar instrumentals.
Here, let me explain.
Strum… achoo.
Strum… achoo.
Strum… achoo.
Strum… achoo, achoo.
And once we get back to where we sing the vocals, the sneezes strangely disappear...
...until the end of the song, where we belt out the final chord…
...and the patrons release their simultaneous sneezes to "complement" it.
The song ends, and the patrons (except those who sneezed) all give out a round of applause.
We decide to go backstage, and curiously enough, Aurora begs us…
"Please… I want to talk with you about something important."
If it's about those sneezes, yes, we approve of your proposal.
We three then head backstage, as the owner and manager himself, Zach, enters the scene with a can of spray disinfectant.
"You guys OK?" he asks us as he begins spraying the entire backstage.
"Yes, we are," I reply in earnest as the disinfectant fumes disperse and do their job of eliminating potential sources of airborne infections.
"Good. This is what we have to contend with almost everyday, but we're doing it in stride. Plus, our bartender is practically irreplaceable, so we can't let him down."
"Well. I don't mind the pet-friendly policy myself," Aurora cuts in. "I've always wanted a fur baby of my own, but my parents wouldn't let me own one, because they are allergic. That's the something important you should know. And now, I'll get a chance to feast my eyes on those adorable pups and kitties once we get to the bar, right?"
Leigh assures her, "Certainly, yes."
The owner/manager concludes, "Good, good. Alright, guys. Have a nice rest. You still have a show to lead, y' hear?"
And thus, Zach exits the scene quickly as he came into it.
The rest of our performance goes without a hitch.
But strangely, those "synchronized sneezes" are gone, owing to the fact that the second-row patrons just evicted voluntarily from the tables right after we three wrapped up our "synchronized sneeze" song, which is in reality an original song of ours titled "The Scent of Wind".
But we pay it no mind.
Once we wrap up our performance, we three head towards the bar post-haste.
"Good evening, lovely trio!" Laurent greets us all as he puts the finishing touches on three drinks three individual customers requested.
Like before, we sit together.
And on the spot right next to ours, we can see a woman wearing an exquisite white robe and carrying with her a chihuahua.
"Here you go, Miss Susan Sonora. Low-alcohol martini, shaken, not stirred, for the one and only Ronald."
The chihuahua named Ronald can only get excited as he opens his mouth and drools.
Thankfully, none of the drool reaches the counter-top, as Susan quickly wipes the tiny gob of drool from Ronald's mouth and has him feast on the martini with his tongue.
We three can do nothing but react to this scene within a scene…
"Awwwww…"
Susan then notices us.
"Oh, good evening. You're Brave Ad 65, right? And the girl accompanying you two is Aurora Hart?"
We all nod in agreement to confirm our identities.
"It's a good thing our gracious bartender advocated to make this place a pet-friendly one. He understood the sentiments of the rising number of pet lovers here in Atlanta in recent years, and…"
I respond, "Yes, we know. In the long term, allowing pets inside will net huge profits, if several studies I've personally browsed online are to be believed."
"Ah, so you also did your research."
Leigh adds, "Because we should."
As our conversation goes on, I unconsciously dig deep into the depths of my memory.
The depths that contain my shameful past.
***
I once developed a wrathful hatred for pets due to a childhood incident.
The incident happened one ordinary post-school day.
I was just walking from my house, marching across the street where rows of similar one-storey bungalows prevailed.
The purpose of my trek was to visit my classmate, who hasn't returned my robot toy yet even after a month in his possession.
But once I got to the front lawn of the house itself, a big, nasty dog suddenly came into the picture, its angry snarl prominent among the bushes where it emerged from.
And thus, by instinct, I had no choice but to cancel the appointment…
...and run like heck.
I amped up my running speed, but the dog did the same in return.
It truly was out to tear me to shreds, like hyenas about to feast on prey.
Eventually, my body ran out of stamina, and I feared the worst.
One bite and I would know I would get rabies.
The dog started to chew on my pants, in order to expose the "juicy meat" I have, when…
"Darn Jules! Assaulting an innocent boy! What were you thinking?!"
That was the voice of a thirty-something woman who was clearly scolding the dog himself.
Jules just calmly walked towards the woman in question with a whimper in his voice.
"Sorry to bother you like that. By the way, you're Frederick, right?"
"Right."
"Your classmate… and my son, Anselm, will return the toy robot to you this weekend. He's making good on his promise, as I'll reprimand him when he won't return it."
"T-Thank you."
Long story short: My classmate indeed returned my toy robot as promised, but the trauma of the incident would remain in my mind for years to come.
The dog named Jules was already vaccinated with an anti-rabies vaccine, but his rabidness and his relentless anger would remain in my memories.
The mere recall of that incident would trigger a combination of both fear and scorn for any kind of pet who has the capacity to bite – dogs and cats, even highly-domesticated ones, were not once spared from my mean stares that would guarantee them running away from me instead.
And if those dogs, cats, etc. were out for a walk with their owners or were wandering around as strays, and they acted hostile towards me with the accompanying barking and screeching, I would strategically walk with other people or inanimate objects acting as cover, and then find refuge in a place with elevation, where they would never touch me again.
If they still continued their hostility, I would've brought out a shotgun and fired a warning shot in order to make them fear me.
Good thing that fear-based hostile attitude towards pets completely disappeared when something happened one day five years ago, and I then met Leigh.
***
Aurora nudges my shoulder as she says to me…
"Hey! Earth to Fred! Are you daydreaming?"
"Oh, oops, sorry. I… was just remembering something unsavory."
As de rigueur for a nice guy like me, I disclose everything in the memory I unearthed to Leigh, Aurora, and Susan.
And to my surprise, Laurent also listens to my story attentively.
"Whoa there, Fred! Never knew you were a rabid pet hater once! Glad you did a complete 180!"
"Well… you were a great factor for me to completely appreciate pets of all shapes and sizes. The key here is how to relate to one humanely, understanding its mood from the several body movements and sounds it makes. Ignore that body language and it's a recipe for disaster."
"Looks like I taught you well. Alright, got to serve the others!"
"Later!"
Susan then segues, "And about those sneezes some people have due to those pet allergies… well, they fortunately don't get any worse. Those sneeze-happy people already have treatments ready in their item compartments, you see?"
"Good, good. That gives me an idea…"
"What is it?"
"Leigh and I agreed backstage before our show ended that we should compose a brand-new song called 'Synchronized Sneezing'. Complete with real, actual sneezes!"
"And those sneezes will be performed live?"
I just flail my hands side-wards quickly as I object, "No, no, no! They'll be recorded once, and then played via a portable hi-fi player connected to the stage's sound system to accompany our guitars and voices."
"Brilliant. I simply am concerned that you would start an epidemic in the process."
"Why would we?"
This day, which was headlined by pets and sneezes, ignited a spark within us.
A spark of creativity.
Hopefully, with Aurora involved somehow, we can make a song sure to be a hit with the patrons.