Egg Salad Sandwiches, Cookies and Pears This morning though, my mummy decides to get up early and make that egg salad sandwich of her dreams. She puts her heart and soul into making that sandwich. I sit there watching and drooling just a little, while she minces the egg, adds a dash of salt and pepper, and tosses in some finely chopped green onion and a dollop of mayo. She then butters the bread to the outer edges, spreads the egg salad neatly throughout, tops it with a leaf of red lettuce, cuts it in half on the diagonal and lovingly wraps it in waxed paper. She goes the whole nine yards, because she also wraps up some oatmeal cookies and washes a pear. She then puts her scrumptious lunch in the middle of the kitchen table and leaves the kitchen, probably confident I won't be able to reach it. She's wrong. While she's upstairs pulling on her pantyhose and zipping up her skirt, I am chowing down on this delicious egg sandwich. How was I to really know that she was imagining how surprised everyone at work
would be to see her with her homemade lunch. I'm sorry my mummy. I couldn't help it. Travesty Strikes Well, not only had I been a little devil and wolfed down the sandwich, I did demolish the cookies and was working on the pear when she found me. She was incensed. I scramble to hide under the kitchen table, hang my head to act ashamed and tuck my tail between my legs for added effect. She then leaves me there and stomps out the door without a lunch, and quite frankly, thoroughly ticked off. I don't know why. Anyway, I threw up shortly after. I think it was the onions.
My mummy loves egg salad sandwiches. In fact she'd been thinking about making one for herself for the past two months. Every day, though, she bought her lunch, usually from the hotdog vendor. While eating with her work friends, they would chastise each other for not bringing lunch from home. Why they could spend their entire lunch hour talking about the lipsmacking food they'd like to bring to eat, all the money they'd save, and how much healthier they'd be. They knew it was all talk because none of them ever brought a home made lunch.
Her first hint that there is something very wrong is the torn waxed paper I left behind by mistake on the rug in the front hall. I heard her stomach turn over. My stomach turned over too. She knows it's me. She's so smart.
So, I'm that darned dog It all changed when my julia posted this darling, unselfish sign on the fridge: "Attention Family Members. All I want for my 17th birthday is a PUPPY. It can be the whole family’s, not just mine." In fine print it read, "If you are not going to get me a puppy, don't get me anything!" Maybe it was the "you're either with me or against me" tone that made it work. Who knows? But I'm sure glad it did, because a few months ago the cutest little puppy entered their lives. ME! Boy Do They Love Me! Her once in a lifetime lunch effort isn't the only thing that I have eaten. She had searched stores for a pair of brown knee-highs to match her brown trousers. After wearing them a few times, one was missing. While she tore the house apart looking for the mate, I was busy eating it. Just as she is about to give up, I start heaving. Sure enough, out comes the sock. Armed with rubber gloves and holding her breath, she picks it up, rinses it off and though she didn’t wear brown socks that day, she did eventually get the pair back into circulation. Not long after, though, my mummy found out that an unidentified sock came out my other end. She chastised her son, my adam, for not rinsing it off. I don't blame him. My poop is pretty fowl.
Driving to work this morning my mummy thinks to herself “the dog ate my homework” is not a joke.In fact, I do eat anything! My first word was “sushi”. I learned very quickly to love broccoli, cauliflower, green beans, cabbage, zucchini, green, red and yellow pepper, cherry tomatoes, asparagus, celery, apples, plums, pears, pineapple and oranges, just by putting on my really cute look while she makes dinner.
With at least six weeks to go before we are out of this deep freeze, the snow in our backyard is yellow. They can thank me for that colourful addition. The poop I leave them that they're not fast enough to pick up, freezes rock solid on top. I spend my outdoor time digging deep through snow banks to see if I can't find something tasty! On sunny days, I really enjoy languishing in the rose bed where the best sun shines. Can't wait for the squirrels to wake up!
Well, even though my mummy's lunch dreams were squashed, she gets warm all over thinking about ME! She smiles as she imagines how big I have grown. She frowns remembering how easy life was before ME! She looks pensive wondering what colour van my daddy should buy to accomodate me on our summer holiday. And then my mummy gets that warm and fuzzy feeling reliving how much love and laughter I have brought into my family. ME! And I did it without really trying!
"I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals."
For over 15 years they managed to resist my julia's passion for a pet. My mummy's heart would say “ya ya ya ya!” her head would say “whoa Nellie”. Afterall, they were an almost all-adult family, living in the city on a property that is less than 30 feet wide, and they were known for their small but pristine lawn and rose gardens. Also it had been years since they needed a babysitter. And they fly whenever they go on holidays. Why do I not feel sorry for them?
They think I am a doll! My mummy brags to all her friends about how quickly I was crate trained. I keep my mouth shut, never drool and never talk back. That scores me BIG points. To be truthful, I love them to death. They, in turn, treat me like the second coming. I am greeted and fussed over when they arrive home from school or work; they barely say "Hi" to my other family members. When secured in my crate overnight, I start banging my tail on the wall the minute I hear them approaching in the morning. When they open the door I shoot out like a bullet and dance around them like a long lost friend. I am so happy to see them! My mummy says I am a keener and so smart — well, sometimes.
Winston Churchill
