January 22, 2012 § 1 Comment
It all began when I sat down to my dinner.
It looked amazing. I say looked because it was another two hours before I tasted it. It was some kind of salad of couscous, cashews, yogurt, capers, cucumber, baby tomatoes and herbs (these last three picked minutes before from our kitchen garden), impressively plated into a small campfire whose kindling consisted of vegetarian sausages (I am embarrassed about eating vegetarian sausages and would not have mentioned them but it becomes relevant later) and twigs of fried haloumi. It was beautiful. And promising.
So beautiful and promising that I decided to take its picture. With my iPhone. My shiny, white, one-month-into-its-24-month-contract 4S iPhone. And where would my iPhone be? Well it would be here. No? Then it must be here. No. Here? Nope.
And then I started to get that sick, gripping feeling because the last time it had definitely been here was in the pocket of my shorts. The shorts in which I had recently walked a couple of miles trailing my kid and his bike around the local parks and playgrounds.
So I left my dinner on its plate and retraced my steps. ALL OF THEM. Twice. Paying special attention to any place where I had stopped, paused or broken into a jog. Eventually I conceded defeat and headed home to the family, who had disappeared in the car and left me locked out. They were looking for me. This could be good news or bad news. I started to drag myself down the street again, decided I may as well stay put and sat out the front to wait, making a mental list of all the damage control things.
But guess what! It was good news. Someone had found my phone, answered it and invited them over to pick it up. So lucky. We trooped inside the house and I put My Precious in its spot.
And that’s when my partner said “Did you eat your sausages?” And I said no, because I’d been locked out until now. And so had the dogs.
We went and stared at my meal like a couple of detectives.
Richard: You didn’t eat the sausages?
Me: No. And I think I had four pieces of cheese, not three!
(What am I, Goldilocks? “Someone’s been eating out of MY bowl, Richard.”)
We stared at my dinner a bit more. It looked a bit disheveled, but gently. As if sausages had been…eased out. By a dog.
And so poor Richard, whose beautiful, promising salad was now a victim of crime, said “Throw it out.”
But do you know what I did next? I sat down and ATE MY DOG FOOD. Because even though a dog (or dogs) had recently stolen vegetarian sausages out of it, it still looked pretty good. And it was delicious. And also, it was pretty hilarious that the dog (or dogs) stole vegetarian sausages and left most of the haloumi and OH HO the joke’s on you, dog (or dogs), because now they can eat vegetarian sausages like the rest of us. Or instead of the rest of us.
And a certain Good Samaritan in my neighborhood is going to get a great big bunch of THANK YOU tomorrow.