He Cooked
My dad cooked everyday. And when he wasn't cooking for his heathen children, he was cooking for his other beastly creatures: the dogs. Who cooks for their dogs? Not as uncommon as you'd think, but Lord have mercy on me if I ever thought about cooking for my cats. Spoiled enough, indeed. The cats eat as often as Hobbits and have bellies and shiny coats to prove it. They laze around like they live at the Chateau Marmont and yet they still have the audacity to ignore me when I could use a good cat-hug. And here I am now, drenched in the stench of a home-cooked meal.... for my dog. Oy yes. I need to back-track.... We kept the dog. You knew we would, didn't you? Go on, say it. "I told you so..." Well what no one told me was that I would no longer enjoy sleeping in quite as late as I'd like. Penny Gwen, our poochy pooch, who sleeps beside us, is sure to paw at my face and dig her wet nose into my dry face as a way of saying "woma...