Sunday night, turkey meatballs on the stove. Garlic sizzling in olive oil, half an onion going soft in the pan, and the kind of smell that pulls everybody in the house into the kitchen. Everybody included my Cavalier. Snickers planted himself at my feet, nose up, tail sweeping the floor like a windshield wiper. I … Read more
Saturday morning, fridge clean-out. Half a zucchini going soft in the crisper drawer, most of a bag of baby spinach, one lonely carrot, and the open can of pumpkin I’d been spooning onto Snickers’ dinner all week. Normally that’s a trash day. This time I pulled out the mixing bowl instead. I’d baked a pumpkin … Read more
Friday night, rain on the windows, and a bag of popcorn doing its thing in the microwave. Snickers, my Cavalier, heard the first pop from two rooms away. By the time I sat down, he’d already picked his spot. Right between my feet and the coffee table, eyes locked on the bowl like it owed … Read more
It was a rainy Sunday afternoon and I was digging through the pantry, hunting for the bag of training treats I’d been handing Snickers all week. Found it wedged behind a can of tomatoes. On a whim, I flipped it over to actually read the label. The sodium number made me put the bag down … Read more
Last July, the air on our porch felt like it was moving through soup. I had the fan going. Snickers, my Cavalier, was flat on the tile in the kitchen with her belly pressed against the coolest spot she could find, looking at me with that quiet accusation dogs give you when they think you’re … Read more
The bottle of goat milk had been sitting in my fridge for four days. I bought it on impulse after my vet mentioned it during a routine visit, said something about it being gentler on dog stomachs than regular milk. Then I got home, put it in the fridge, and completely forgot about it. Snickers … Read more
There’s an older gentleman I keep bumping into at the vet’s office. Big grey moustache, quiet voice, and a Labrador named Duke who’s always leaning against his knee like he’s trying to hold his owner up instead of the other way around. Last month I overheard the receptionist ask how Duke was doing on his … Read more
Snickers was ten weeks old the night he chewed a hole through the corner of my couch. Not a nibble. An actual crater, foam poking out like a wound. I found him at 2 a.m., ears flopped inside out, gnawing on the wood underneath the cushion like it owed him money. I sat on the … Read more
The vet said it kindly. Softly, even. “So Snickers is about three pounds over ideal, Aleksandar. Nothing dramatic. But we should probably do something about it.” I stood there holding the leash while he panted up at me, tongue out, tail going, absolutely thrilled with life. Three pounds doesn’t sound like much until you realize … Read more
Snickers, my Cavalier, has an uncanny sense for the meat counter. Last Tuesday I was standing there squinting at a tub of “premium freeze-dried food topper” priced at $34.99, and he was already tugging me two feet to the left, right toward the tray of chicken gizzards. Two dollars a pound. Two. I’ve been buying … Read more