Little Snot

That little snot.

Who does she think she is? Spitting out that cookie on the floor.

OK, so I’ve trained her up with routine. Still…

Regarding cookies, we have certain kinds for certain times of day. She knows what comes when, and she demands that I stay on schedule and do it right and in the proper order. She has food allergies, so I have to be careful what I buy, I have to read the ingredients on the labels, I even bake one variety. Canned venison and potato: let the mashed up food slink out of the can, cut it into five round patties, cut the patties into six little triangles, put on cookie sheet, bake for three hours at 275. Let her lick the remains on the cookie sheet. (It’s her cookie sheet and no one else uses it except the son when he comes home to visit and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.)

So we’re out of venison and potato cookies and they MUST come first. It’s her first treat of the morning, followed by a boy-shaped peanut butter that I break into six little pieces and then a veggie heart that I break in half. That’s the routine. Without the special baked variety, I lay the others on the floor in her standard spot. She looks at them, picks up one, spits it out, walks away.

“You little snot,” I say.

So I drag myself barefooted into the kitchen holding my first cup of coffee in the red cup with a growly face and the words GO AHEAD — MAKE MY DAY! I tie my hair back out of my eyes. I open venison/potato cans, pull the cookie sheet out, spray it with Pam, turn on the oven. I light a candle because that venison stinks like hell when it bakes, and I’d really rather be smelling bacon and toast this time of morning.

For three hours she sits in front of the oven. And waits. When the alarm goes off, she jumps up and watches as I pull the cookies out and  put them in a bowl. She wags her tail as I put the cookie sheet on the floor for her to lick. I leave one cookie on it. She eats it, then licks the sheet clean.

Then, get this, she goes to her standard spot and eats all the rest of the peanut butter and veggie cookie pieces I left out earlier. She is committed to doing this in the proper order. And she holds me accountable.

“You little snot,” I say again. She looks at me and licks her lips.

Advertisements

One Comment on “Little Snot”


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s