When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro. - Hunter S. Thompson

17 October 2008

Remembering absent friends at unexpected times

I doubt this post will make any sense at all, but I'm going to write it and see.

Friday nights at our place, we often get takeout, or cook something simple at best; tonight was spaghetti night, a favorite Friday convention because you boil some water, open a box of pasta, and warm up some homemade sauce stashed in the freezer when you had more time. If you're feeling adventurous and wild, you make a salad. And it's pretty decent, quick, actual home cooking (you prepaid timewise when you made the sauce.)

Carrie and I had both had long weeks, but takeout (even with some of the great places we have in the neighborhood) didn't appeal, so I threw together something quick.

So, Spaghetti Night. I'm getting over a bit of stomach upset, so I went light on the sauce.

I don't know if you know this about dogs, but if you don't: they eat anything.

They especially love the sort of food that human beings eat off of plates, and if you don't want your dogs to develop bad habits, you don't ever feed them table scraps.

We compromised. Dogs are not fed from plates in our house, but when the meal is over, if they've waited semi-politely, we might share a bit of whatever we were eating that's dog-safe.

Pasta, lightly tossed with butter (but no sauce), is a traditional canine favorite in our place.

Tonight when I went to put two small handfuls of noodles into the dog bowls, there was only one dog and one food bowl.

Chow Bella was really happy to get the spaghetti.

I'm sure she must have wondered why I was acting so strange.

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