We are huge fans of Pancheros. It’s in the Chipotle and Qdoba category, but their meat, tortillas and rice is more preferable. I think the chain started in Iowa, where I discovered it. We went through a long drought without it in St. Louis, and we were overjoyed to discover it here in Indianapolis. We’ve made it our mission to get them business, because they’re unfortunately rather empty every time we go in.
On my second day home from the hospital and Dan’s first day back to work, my mom and I set out to run errands and get lunch. When we got in the car, we got a call from the guy taking care of my parents’ dogs in Iowa that one of them was acting very strange and sick.
My mom called ahead to warn the vet, and we kept on our way. Shortly before Pancheros, the guy called back to say that Reilly had died. He was old and had lived a long life, but he was not the dog any of us expected to die first. I got teary — strangely guilty that my whole family had been visiting me and that this poor dog died without his family around.
I pulled it together enough to go into Pancheros while my mom called my dad to tell him. I attempted to order, but the Pancheros lady could tell something was wrong. I admire that quality — the ability to discernment unspoken emotions — so deeply. I said nothing was wrong and burst into tears in line at Pancheros. Not fooling anyone. “I had a brain tumor removed, and we just learned that one of my childhood dogs died.” “Can I give you a hug?” she asked. She came around the counter, hugged me, and gave us free lunch.
I don’t think she fully heard the brain tumor part, which makes her kind act so much more meaningful. So, today, I’m writing a thank you to the Pancheros lady. And recommending you support their business.