….ah, I’ve just been told by my person that I’ve used a bad word.
As a dog, obviously there are no bad words. There are still rules – like no barking in my person’s face when she’s reading…or sleeping (I do it anyway though because it’s funny). But let’s get back to the topic at hand –
Snow stinks (I’ve been told this word is okay) because anything more than three inches is level with my belly. And I don’t have to explain to you why that would be uncomfortable for me.
But there are benefits to snow – like the baking that goes on in this apartment when snow is on the ground and my person doesn’t have to work. There are breads, pies, and all kinds of treats I get to sample. It’s bliss, until of course we have to go outside again and more snow has accumulated in my absence. And then it’s clear –
Snow is a mother fucker.
Okay, so apparently that word is bad too? I’m starting to wonder about my person’s vocabulary…
Anyway, wish me luck and a warm belly, friends, for winter is here and snow, she is coming…
My dog, Bella, is known as the cat-dog as she’s got the snark and judgmental eyes of a cat with the energy and loyalty of a dog.
Of all of the things that Bella is known for, her role as sous chef is the most infamous. I can’t even claim her as only my sous chef as Bella will lend out her skills as floor cleaner, dishwasher, and food smeller extraordinaire to anyone. While in this role, she will often park her butt on the floor behind the cook or directly in front of the stove…in case her taste testing skills are required, such selfless sacrifice from our humble sous chef.
And this Christmas, Bella’s sous chef skills truly paid off. I give you – the tale of the turkey dog:
The electric knife buzzed through the Christmas turkey (turkey is never frowned upon in this establishment) and the aroma of well-cooked meat perfumed the air around our noses. I forked another slice of turkey on to the serving tray when I heard Bella’s collar jingle.
And then it jingled again, like when Bella shakes off the rain after a walk. I looked down to see her shake off again, droplets flying off her head…
Alicia – “Why is your head wet?”
Bella – Here is my innocent face, which I hope will distract you from asking any more inconvenient questions.
I turn back to the table to grab another slice of turkey, my eyes falling to the table just below the cutting board, where turkey juices had apparently been pooling for quite some time…to the seam in the table where another leaf can be added to make the kitchen table larger…where turkey juices were dripping onto a sizable pool on the floor. At that moment, perhaps sensing the last moments of her secret treat, Bella darted under the table (and into the dripping stream) for another taste of turkey juices and then sat prettily for this picture – oily, turkey fur and all.
I guess all of that experience as sous chef finally paid off…sadly enough, it also earned Bella one of her least favorite activities – a bath.