My Snickers is a knee-high bit of spunk. Almost 6 years old, the tri-colored terrier may have lost his puppyhood raw energy, but he has not lost any of his wit.
Over the last few days, I have been on a pocket-food making kick. First, I thought I would start by making up pasties. I cooked up a whole chicken, shredded all of it (except the skin and bones) and mixed it into pasty filling. Snickers, of course, was right there with me in the kitchen, helping by cleaning up any morsels that accidentally fell to the floor. In his ripe, old age, the little "man of the house" has figured out that it is quite profitable to help out with meal preparations. So good at his job, is he, that he sometimes even catches stray morsels in MID-AIR before they hit the floor (especially when his name is called before they "accidentally" fall in his direction).
I made up my first pasty and decided to try it out. Bleck! The filling was fine, but I did not care for the driness of the crust. I decided to make pierogi, instead (AKA "inside-out chicken dumplings").
The next day, I made up my first batch of pierogi dough. I rolled it out with my rolling pin, trying to get it as thin and even as I could. (By the way, this is not as easy as it sounds when you cannot find your large rolling pin that rolls around a spindle and, instead, have to use a rolling pin that is essentially a large dowel. Peirogi dough is very stiff.) I used an empty soup can to cut circles out of the dough, then made up a few "dumplings" and put the rest of the dough-circles aside to finish making later.
Snickers, beside me the whole time, patiently waited at the ready in case his services would be needed. Alas, they were not and I felt a little badly that he would go away empty-handed (so to speak) after having faithfully performed his duty that afternoon. So, when one of my pierogi turned out to have a little tear in it, I carefully put it to the side for Snickers. He would have his reward, after all.
After cleaning my cooking mess, I handed him the pierogi. Unaccustomed to receiving a prime portion, he inhaled it. I smiled as I walked down the hall to my office and sat in front of my computer.
No sooner had I sat down than Snickers followed me into the room, stood on his hind legs to put his paw on my chair's seat and scratch at my arm. This is the sign that he wants to go out, so I got up out of my chair to let him out the front door. Snickers ran down the hall, like he usually does, pausing intermittently to check behind himself and make sure I was following. Gettinng to the end of the hall, he erupted into the area at the edge of the kitchen and dining room and turned again to look, ears perked and eyes bright, at me.
"Alright. I'm coming," I said as I walked into the kitchen. "Go on."
I turned toward the left to go to the front door, expecting Snidkers to get up and run in front of me. Instead, he got up, trotted to my right -- and plopped himself right in front of my cutting board. He looked at me, ears up, as if to say, "That was yummy! More, please, Mom!"
I guess five year-olds are five year-olds, no matter what their species.
Over the last few days, I have been on a pocket-food making kick. First, I thought I would start by making up pasties. I cooked up a whole chicken, shredded all of it (except the skin and bones) and mixed it into pasty filling. Snickers, of course, was right there with me in the kitchen, helping by cleaning up any morsels that accidentally fell to the floor. In his ripe, old age, the little "man of the house" has figured out that it is quite profitable to help out with meal preparations. So good at his job, is he, that he sometimes even catches stray morsels in MID-AIR before they hit the floor (especially when his name is called before they "accidentally" fall in his direction).
I made up my first pasty and decided to try it out. Bleck! The filling was fine, but I did not care for the driness of the crust. I decided to make pierogi, instead (AKA "inside-out chicken dumplings").
The next day, I made up my first batch of pierogi dough. I rolled it out with my rolling pin, trying to get it as thin and even as I could. (By the way, this is not as easy as it sounds when you cannot find your large rolling pin that rolls around a spindle and, instead, have to use a rolling pin that is essentially a large dowel. Peirogi dough is very stiff.) I used an empty soup can to cut circles out of the dough, then made up a few "dumplings" and put the rest of the dough-circles aside to finish making later.
Snickers, beside me the whole time, patiently waited at the ready in case his services would be needed. Alas, they were not and I felt a little badly that he would go away empty-handed (so to speak) after having faithfully performed his duty that afternoon. So, when one of my pierogi turned out to have a little tear in it, I carefully put it to the side for Snickers. He would have his reward, after all.
After cleaning my cooking mess, I handed him the pierogi. Unaccustomed to receiving a prime portion, he inhaled it. I smiled as I walked down the hall to my office and sat in front of my computer.
No sooner had I sat down than Snickers followed me into the room, stood on his hind legs to put his paw on my chair's seat and scratch at my arm. This is the sign that he wants to go out, so I got up out of my chair to let him out the front door. Snickers ran down the hall, like he usually does, pausing intermittently to check behind himself and make sure I was following. Gettinng to the end of the hall, he erupted into the area at the edge of the kitchen and dining room and turned again to look, ears perked and eyes bright, at me.
"Alright. I'm coming," I said as I walked into the kitchen. "Go on."
I turned toward the left to go to the front door, expecting Snidkers to get up and run in front of me. Instead, he got up, trotted to my right -- and plopped himself right in front of my cutting board. He looked at me, ears up, as if to say, "That was yummy! More, please, Mom!"
 |
| More, please! |
I guess five year-olds are five year-olds, no matter what their species.
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