I have grown to love cooking at home. Well, that’s not entirely true all the time of course. Let me put it this way. I have grown to love cooking at home when I’m really looking forward to the food I’m preparing, when I’m feeling very happy (for whatever reason!) and to enhance this mood even further, I love to have some great music blaring out at the same time.
If I’m really on it, then I may even break out in song but don’t worry, there won’t be a You Tube link at the bottom of this!
So, last night I was on it. Despite the rain that had been pouring down practically all day long. Consequently, our dog, Molly, had been out only once – for the morning run on the beach – and I was letting her out in to the garden every couple of hours or so. It just so happened that the last time I let her out, I began cooking away and yes, the music was blaring. And I was singing. Very loudly.
About forty-five minutes later, the spaghetti bolognese had been devoured and as I brought the plates back to the kitchen, I managed to spill what was left of the grated cheese on the floor.
“I know,” I thought to myself, “Molly would gladly lick that lot up.”
Any dog owner knows that it only requires one call when food is involved and the pet comes dashing round the corner to collect the unplanned bonus. But no Molly appeared. Maybe she had got bored of her corner of the sofa and wandered upstairs? A quick scan revealed that she was not even in the house.
It was then of course, that I suddenly remembered. I had let her out all that time ago. Now normally, this would not be a problem. Especially as she has now thankfully retired from leaping over the five foot fence to go foraging in the neighbour’s garden.
Last night however, was no ordinary night of course, For a start, it was still raining. Even worse, it was Bonfire Night or more accurately, Fireworks Night. Or, in plain and simple English, every dog’s worst nightmare!
I ran to the back door and once she had emerged from under the cover of the tree, there she was. Wet, not especially frightened thank goodness but not impressed either. So unimpressed in fact, that she even turned her nose up at her own dinner. The cheese didn’t even get acknowledged. Molly will bark whenever she wants to come back in but alas, the B52s and I were in total dominance and I did not hear her. If you click below, you’ll understand why I got so distracted…
In an attempt to feel a little less guilty about this minor misdemeanour, I have been wondering what lesson there could be behind this tale of temporary neglect and my best answer is this…
Feed the dog before you feed yourself.
Or loosely translated into normal, every day life: Don’t merely treat others as you would like to be treated; treat them how they would like to be treated.
p.s. The image above is the best I found when it comes to a man cooking to music – when you type those last three words into Google. And no, I don’t play the guitar, I don’t have a chef’s hat and I definitely don’t have a moustache!