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Fido & Me - Dinner Party!

January 25, 2013

 

“Whatcha makin’ up there?” Fido wanted to know.

The Beeg Boy lay underfoot, as is usual when I’m in the kitchen. He’s always interested in what is on the chopping block.

“I’m chopping stuff for tonight’s dinner party.”

“A DINNER PARTY? Hey hey hey hey! I love-love-love dinner parties!”

“Me too, Fido. A great dinner for others is a gift—an act of love. Chef Marc says that, and I totally agree with him.”

“It’s an act of handouts, too,” Fido exclaimed.

“Yeah, well…”

“So what are we having?”

“Who is this ‘we’ thing, you big red lug? For you, it’s your usual delicious evening kibble with a spritz of salmon oil to keep your skin from getting all flaky.”

“And?”

“For the humans, I’m going to start out with a cheese plate, and you and I are going to make our own crackers. I’m going to make some hummus, too.”

“Sounds delish.”

“Right now I’m chopping stuff for salad, along with two side dishes: brussels sprouts and a yam-potato thing that will go well with the leg of lamb.”

Fido pressed his nose against the underside of the counter.

“Back off, will yez? People food isn’t for dogs.”

“I can dream.”

Later in the afternoon, as the light faded into evening, the guests began to arrive.

“Hi Fido,” each one of the guests said, with variations.

“Hey hey hey hey!” Fido yelled, with each pat on his noggin. “Go Niners!”

After the appetizers and cheese, the guests sat down at the table, and Fido made his way over.

“He understands ‘No,’ I said to the guests, and it’s true. Fido is curious, but he doesn’t beg.

“He only gets dog food,” I announced. “No people food.”

“Why?” one of the guests inquired.

“Because at heart he’s a bear. Give him a handout, he’ll be back for more, and he’ll be a pest, and ultimately, unhappy.”

“I’m a BEAR!?!?” Fido yelped. “I knew that!”

Everyone had a great time. The lamb was terrific, the sprouts, chopped, grilled, and buttered, turned out great, and for the dessert we had a berry cobbler with whipped cream.

“You forgot the spritz of salmon oil in the cobbler,” Fido said afterward.

“Oh, Fido. You are a good dog.”

fido@mammothtimes.com

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