Today’s chapter of Mundane Hijinx is all about meatloaf.
(Or is it meat loaf? Whatever. I like the one-word version.)
OK. So regular readers know my dog has a history of plundering food in the car. Which means everything that happened today is my fault. But really, I think my actions were defensible.
It felt like a meatloaf kind of night — a Monday, cold, dark December, the perfect weather for one of my local meat market’s bestest loaves. I stopped to pick one up after dropping Kate at her after-school play date. It was still frozen, in a foil pan, with a hard plastic lid. So when I decided to stop at the dry cleaner and pick up Alan’s shirts, it didn’t seem necessary to put it in the trunk or anything.
But alas. When I came out of the cleaner’s and found Spriggy hard at work on the floor of the front seat, I still didn’t think he’d penetrated the perimeter. It was hard plastic, and I’d only been out of the car for maybe three minutes. Of course he had. In only three minutes he’d opened the bag, dislodged the plastic and had put about four inches of tooth grooving on the surface, gnawing the semi-frozen surface efficiently and quickly.
“BAD DOG! BAD DOG!” I yelled at him. You know what he did? He growled at me. In other words: “Get your own meatloaf. This is mine.”
(I guess he imagined he was an Inuit sled dog, eating his meal of frozen reindeer meat at the end of the run across the ice pack. Only of course, as a terrier, he wouldn’t actually be pulling the sled. He no doubt saw himself as a coxswain of sorts, barking orders while standing on the cargo.)
But that was only half the fun. After I cooked the meatloaf and took it out of the pan to slice it, guess what happened? I dropped it on the floor, and had to yell, “Get back! Get back!” while I picked up the still-blistering thing and heaved it onto the counter.
We ate our portion from the unchewed end. My burned fingers still hurt. Spriggy got to lick up all the grease.
I’ve long suspected this dog has a guardian angel, or maybe a guardian poltergeist. Things just seem to fall his way, sometimes literally. Someone wanted him to have that meatloaf.
It’s Spriggy’s world. We’re all just living in it.
We all know that some cultures value virginity above all sense and reason, but you never thought you lived in one, did you? Well, you are wrong. I like Amy Alkon’s comment thread on this. Especially this one: She should have put the five grand towards a plasma TV. Her husband could enjoy that more than once.
Cute overload is the berries.
Why do people waste their time building websites like Fancy Parking? Because people like me will link to them, that’s why.