By C.L. (Cindy) Beck
Have you ever noticed that some days it doesn't pay to wake up above ground? Well, maybe I exaggerate slightly, but still ... some Mondays just don't start out like they should.
This morning I intended to review the new Chocolate Cheerios. (By the way, I have a great giveaway going on here, for a Chocolate Cheerios Gift Pack worth $30!) With a measure of excitement—I can't help it, food is always exciting—I poured a bowlful. Setting the box on the counter, I turned away to get the milk and as I did, the cereal tipped over and little chocolate "O"s spilled all over the floor.
Now, let me tell you a little about my dog, Corky Porky Pie. If he's doing something I don't want him to, I can holler at the top of my lungs, whistle loud enough to wake the undead, or fire off a bazooka, and he'll never hear a sound. Yup, a dog is just like a kid.
But, let me spill a tiny bit of milk, drop the crumb of a cookie ... or several Chocolate Cheerios ... and he's there at the speed of light.
Since dogs aren't supposed to have chocolate, I kept my cool and in a soft voice yelled, "NO! Do not eat those. NO, NO, NO!" Okay, so maybe it wasn't so soft. It didn't matter though, because Corky Porky's extra sensitive hearing suddenly degenerated into the hearing of a ninety-two year-old dog.
Hmm, at the rate of seven years in dog life to one in human, that would give him the hearing capabilities of a dog that's six-hundred and forty-four. Yup, sounds just about right!
But, back to the story ... I moved the cereal on the floor with one foot, just barely ahead of his quicksilver tongue. Then we played a game of ring around the rosy, with Corky following my foot in circles as I tried to keep the cereal away from him.
Finally, after he was still fresh as a pan of cinnamon rolls from the oven, and I was too dizzy to shove even one more Cheerio out of the way, I grabbed him with one hand, gathered cereal up with the other, and then let him go as I walked over to dump the food in my hand into the trash.
Behind me, I heard a slurping sound and looked over to see Corky Porky Pie on his side, with his little black nose stuffed under the stove—a space that couldn't have been more than a quarter inch—and his pink tongue wildly flicking every which way. Just as I stepped to intervene, he hopped up and with a crunching noise that rivaled boulders tumbling down a mountain side, he ate something.
There was nothing I could do about it, because reaching down a dog's throat and into his stomach is not a talent I wish to cultivate. At any rate, I felt relief because I no longer worried about him getting sick from the chocolate and throwing up in front of the home teachers.
Instead, now I just hoped that when my visiting teachers arrived, they'd understand when Corly Porky Pie upchucked a couple of pistachio shells.
[Author's note: By the way, when I was finally able to sit down and eat the Chocolate Cheerios, they were yummy. And in keeping with all the federal gobblety-gook, I do have to disclose that I got them as a gift from General Mills. However, if Corky had eaten them, he wouldn't tell anybody.]
© C.L. (Cindy) Beck, 2010
DON'T FORGET ABOUT THE CURRENT GIVEAWAY, Feb 22-Mar 5, 2010: Chocolate Cheerios Gift Pack! The gift pack includes a box of Chocolate Cheerios, a chocolate-colored ceramic cereal bowl, and a chocolate spa kit, all worth $30!
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