Dogs and dining

January 25, 2011

I have to laugh. I’m not sure if this says more about me, or the dog.

It was gym night. I don’t cook on gym night (which has just resumed after a lengthy layoff). I never want much to eat, and NS is just as happy with carryout. So I came home and fixed a caprese, which I ate while IMing with someone on Facebook and fighting the dog off of it.  Dog is NOT well trained, you see. And if I’m eating it, it must be good, never mind it’s tomatos and mozzarella cheese.

This is the dog who will follow me to the fridge every time I open it, but will whine piteously when I open the cheese drawer. Damn dog knows the cheese drawer!

So when I finished my salad, I put the plate in the floor to get her out of my face. She licked it clean.

A few minutes later, I decided I was still hungry. Got up, picked up the plate, took it in the kitchen, got a fresh plate out of the cabinet, carved myself up some PJF sheep’s milk cheese, poured up a little honey, grabbed a couple of pickles and a few olives. Came back to the couch and ate it, fighting off the dog all the while.

And about two-thirds of the way through it, realized that instead of using the clean plate, I had used the one the dog had just licked clean.

Let it be noted I did NOT, at that point, trash the rest of the cheese or give it to the dog. That’s some damn good cheese, doggie germs or not. And I shared many a meal with a dog, growing up, and watched my kids do the same, growing up, and none of us seemed to have suffered from it.

But if you and y’mama ‘n ’em come have dinner with me, you might want to make sure you get the right dishes. I’m just sayin’.

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