Reflections on loving God, being Catholic, being a woman, being ill, loving life and anything else that comes to mind.

Friday, April 04, 2014

D Is For Dog Food

During April, many bloggers participate in the A to Z Blogging Challenge. This is my first year. I'll post twenty-six excerpts from Loved As If, one for each letter of the alphabet, every day except Sunday.

I’m hungry, I told the woman as she rummaged in the refrigerator. My stomach rumbled. My head ached. The world wobbled. You may have an apple, she said in her warning voice and handed one out from the refrigerator. I looked at the red fruit in my hand. Eat it on the back porch and then you can play. I looked back at her standing with one hand on the open refrigerator door as she watched me walk away, That’s all you get ’til dinner. Scoot! I sat under the porch next to Shooey, the large part collie, part golden labrador, and looked at the apple. Do you want an apple, I asked him. He tried to lick my face but I held him back, I don’t want dog spit on my face, Shooey! Shooey sniffed at the apple and sat next to me again. Are you hungry boy? I’ll get you something, I told him.

Charles sat on the porch reading a comic book. Do you want my apple? I asked him. Yes! He looked at me, suspicion in his eyes, Why? I’m not hungry, I told him. He took the apple and crunched into it. The woman had left the kitchen and had locked the refrigerator and cupboards. One of the lower cupboards held a large bag of dry dog food next to a stack of tinned dog food. I filled both front jean pockets with the dry food and went back to sit with Shooey under the porch. Here boy, I held a piece of dog food from my right pocket on the palm of my hand. How does it taste? Is it good? I reached in my left pocket and removed another piece. Shooey began sniffing at that pocket. No! I told him. You can have some from this pocket. I pulled him around by his collar sand pointed his nose to my right pocket, I don’t want dog spit on mine.

It’s crunchy. Crisp. Like crunchy, tinned, corned beef hash, I informed Shooey, giving him another piece from my right pocket. My head began to bob. These are Crispy Treats, Shooey. I began to sing in time to the bobbing of my head: Crispy treats are so nutritious, good for you and perfectly delicious! The image of boxes in the cracker aisle of the supermarket filled my mind, Maybe we could sell these.

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