I have a confession to make. I am obsessed with dog poop. At times with my dog walking clients, I feel like I’m the guy driving the golf cart at the tail end of the horse parade with the shovel and barrel in back. I’ve developed a sixth sense where I know when a dog has to poop before he knows himself.
I scoop up the little gems into translucent green bags and tie them off with a knot while avoiding getting any whiff of the stink. The bags come on rolls and are sold in packs of six. Though I buy them in bulk, I’m still checking myself for bags. When I get down to one roll, I restock my vest with four more. Maybe I’m obsessed with these green bags too. Continue reading “Little Green Bags”
When you sit down, I lie down on the floor near you. When you get up to leave, I rise to follow you from room to room. My favorite room is the kitchen. If you stayed in the kitchen all day long it would be fine with me. Even when you’re not cooking I can smell the scent from the previous night’s meal, and the one before that and before that, going back to my favorite—meatloaf.
You know those aging cowboy actors doing television ads praising beef? Saying there’s nothing like a US prime cut of beef, or something like that? Well, I don’t disagree with them, but boy, could I growl some praise about meatloaf. What a perfect food, seasoned with spices, then cooked to bring out the flavor. No annoying bones to chew around and slow you down, or boring vegetables to pick out. Just beef. And ground up like it’s been already chewed for you so all that’s left to do is swallow. It’s immediate gratification taken to its ultimate extreme. Continue reading “Meat Loaf”