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Archive for April 17th, 2009

Gravy Paw

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One of the few things I remember about my grandfather was something he told me. “If you ever want to make someone listen to what you have to say, talk about puppies.” That line will always be vivid in my mind because one, I have no idea what it means and two, he passed out and fell face first into a bowl of fried rice which he was eating with a wooden mixing spoon. He died eleven hours later.


I come home for lunch everyday. I eat one of two different microwave meals everyday. I sit on the couch after it’s done “cooking” everyday. The dogs sit by me and watch me eat everyday. There is a theme of everyday that I cannot escape from.


My dogs have never been given the gift of “human food”, so I’m not sure why they linger around as though “this is the day” that I’ll break down and grill them a hamburger, but they do. Perhaps the smell is just so overwhelming that they can’t help it.


Most days the dogs like to tussle. They’ll get into it pretty good and the one dog likes to get “hoppy” and jump back and forth at the other dog, I guess as a way to anger, taunt, engage or pester her.


On this day, the jumping dog caught unusually high altitude, enough to soar above my protective arm barrier. His left, front, paw landed square in the middle of Salisbury steak side of the microwavable partitioned dish. In slow motion the screaming from my mouth chased after the startled dog as he immediately jumped out of the gravy bin, back on to the couch, then ricocheting onto my wife’s chest who was sitting next to me. After that he was off and running.


Everywhere he set his paw down was a gravy soaked paw print. I offered to get the one on my wife’s chest, but apparently brown, meat gravy on her work clothes doesn’t put her in a good mood and certainly not in the frame of mind for entertaining pseudo sexual acts of food fetishes.


I chased after him and wiped his paw off and then wiped the 687 places he had stepped as he ran away from me. I didn’t get in between his toes very well, so as I walked around the house with my rag, he lay on the kitchen floor and cleaned the gravy from his paw.


What a bastard, all that for some lousy gravy.


Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

April 17, 2009 at 3:11 am