I’ve become an expert at guilting the mommy biped with a single glance to subtly explain how detestable mom’s cooking can be. She’s a great mom all-around, but seriously, I ask you, when was the last time someone took all your favorite foods, then blenderized them together into a glob that resembles the Blob from outter space movie and thrown that slop on a plate and offer that plate with a smile that belongs only in the Twilight Zone, and warbles, “yummy, yummy for your tummy!” and expects you to eat it and love it and wag while doing it, and all the time knowing it’s gonna rise up and make you upchuck on mom biped’s favorite papasan chair.
I have to take a breath, I got carried away.
Okay, I feel better now. But you know, a good rant and pity-face to the upper echelon works wonders, because one Monday, she wised up, and now she gives me my favs in a way that makes sense – on a divided t.v. dinner plate with its own compartments for meat, vegies, carbs, and fruit.
The only thing missing was the dessert tray, so out came the begging-for-sweets face, and voila! Pie for everyone! And cake! And ala mode! Every Monday! And none of it in a blender! Now I don’t have to steal cookies off the deck steps that were left out for squirrels and have mom biped tell me “spit out that cookie” and I did, “ptui!” and sat motionless looking so sad and she laughed until she was breathless at my cuteness and said, “oh, never mind, eat the cookie.”
There are the occasional moments I bemoan being canine, but mostly, I have more fun than the bipeds do. Meaning, I never have to clean up my own messes. But that’s for another day.
Ta-ta,
Minnie, Queen of Cute
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