Powdered Faith at Cafe’ Du Monde

A couple of years ago, when I took my first solo run cross-country with Faith and Winston Churchill, I stopped at Café Du Monde, which has since become a staple of my travels. I don’t think I’ve gone across the country once without stopping there.

I parked the car, and since it was pretty warm out, I left the air conditioner blasting and pulled the emergency brake. I ran inside to grab some delicious beignets and a souvenir. While I was looking for a mug with my aunt and uncle, who had joined me for a few days, I suddenly heard a massive honking horn. Everyone in the café turned to look outside. My first thought was that it was a road rage incident, so I glanced back at the mugs, still trying to decide which one I wanted.

Suddenly, a man walked in the door and said, in the most Southern accent you’ve ever heard, “There’s a dog honking a horn.” We all looked out the windows. I asked, “Does it happen to be a tan-colored shepherd?” He said, “Yep,” and made the motion of her honking the horn. Then he added, “When you’re done, I’ve got to meet that dog.”

With a little apprehension—because Faith at the time was not a people dog—I bought the beignets and the mug, then went to the car to get her and Winston so they could meet the man and his wife outside by the chairs. Faith immediately sat down in front of him, slowly put her ears back, and licked the air in front of him while he caressed her head with both hands. I was shocked—it was awesome.

Afterward, my aunt and uncle and I decided to stay and eat the beignets there. After a short while, Winston got up and peered over the table. I saw a slow drip of drool roll off the end of his tongue and land right into my aunt’s cup. I said, “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, I’ll buy you another one.” She said, “No, that’s OK. I was almost done.” I replied, “OK, well I guess we should hit the road again,” and off we went.