Sometimes a rather routine chore takes on new depth, makes me think. Take dinner at the Shady Rest, for instance. Most nights, just fill a bunch of bowls (dogs) and plates (cats), put 'em down, listen to the slurping, keep George from starting a melee, then pick up and we're done.
Tonight, I found myself caught up in watching George with his dinner. He may be old and blind, his heart may not work right, he may have had a small stroke, but his appetite is undiminished. He attacks his dinner with the same vigor that he attacks anyone who would interfere with it. I was impressed watching rice and kibbles fly up around his head. It looked almost like something from a cartoon. I usually give him a little extra, just to account for the amount that's going to end up anywhere except inside him. I'll spend a little time later picking rice grains off my filing cabinet (he opted to eat in the office tonight), at least the ones Sammie doesn't find. I think Cj got the worst of it out of his bed.
He's not the only mess, mind you. Just the most dramatic. When I took his bowl back to the kitchen, I found Archie, very full and content, with one, perfectly clean, grain of rice stuck to the very center of his nose. Not a hint of gravy remained on it, he'd somehow managed to clean it off completely without actually swallowing it. Again, I was impressed.
It made me think a bit of Heff. He got adopted this past weekend, by the way. He'll be very happy, I'm sure - young couple, first dog of their own (though both grew up in dog-loving families - much excitement over the new grandpug.) When we got there, they'd already been shopping and had a brand new, Heff-sized dog bed full of toys and accessories and treats. They confessed they'd actually started to worry that he wouldn't like them! Most people worry about the opposite, so that was a very good sign. Fortunately, in spite of my worries about his shyness, he took to them as quickly as they fell for him.
Anyway, Heff usually wore as much of his dinner as he ate. His entire handsome black head would be flecked from mid-neck up with bits of rice, and the occasional bit of carrot.
It must be a pug thing. Freya will sometimes end up with a tiny crumb at the very tip of her long, elegant nose, but it never stays long, and in all the years she and I have kept company, I've yet to have to dig it out of her ear.
Ah, well. Dinner's done for the night. Bowls rinsed and stacked, Loki, Spencer and Freya put to bed, Archie de-riced and George mostly cleaned up. All is quiet but for the occasional soft burp or snore. Just another day at the Shady Rest.
Y'all take care now.