October 29, 2020. Chicken! I got chicken! Or perhaps I shouldn’t write the resolution of my story before the plot. It’s the tale of how a greyhound once again saves her landlady. She is upset, The Glass Fire is licking at Cloverdale city limits. An evacuation warning could become an order. We race to find shelter with her best friends 50 miles away. Next morning, she’s still upset. How can I help her? Aha, I will stop eating! It works. By evening everyone is focused on me. The dog has stopped eating! What is the dog’s favorite food? Chicken! Let’s make him chicken! They cook and eat chicken and watch me eat chicken, the fire (about which they can do nothing anyway) is forgotten for the moment and my landlady is happy. I forgive them for referring to me as “the dog.” It was an emergency and their minds were clouded. Now, the denouement for which you have been waiting. Chicken! I got chicken!
PS - Chicken for real ? Now that's a different story. It was v. clever of you to cause this diversion. By the way...just what is that fire doing? I hope it moved away from your neighborhood. For good.
Ohhhh poor puppy. Chicken ? Zucchini ? just no comparison. just like the time I thought I'd scored tiny meatballs. (I'm a counter-surfer too. At Lucky's Bed and Biscuit they always thought it was cute...). Anyway, they weren't meatballs. They were purple grapes. Blechhhh.
Your pal Brie