Thursday, August 19, 2010


If you know me at all, you know how much I loooooove walnuts, and that getting walnuts in my dish every morning is the high point of my day. So I really can’t explain how it happened that the other morning I somehow missed the chance to eat my walnuts before I went outside with my person to mow the lawn. It wasn’t until I was zipped inside my carrier and on the way out the door on my person’s back that I remembered. I knew those little walnut bits were in my food dish just waiting to be eaten and I hadn’t yet tasted even one and here we were going outside and getting ready to mow the lawn. Normally I enjoy helping my person mow the lawn. While she pushes the mower back and forth, back and forth, I ride in my carrier and survey the land. I watch out for dumb robins and squawk at the neighbor when she walks to the end of her driveway to get the newspaper and squawk at any joggers or cyclists who happen to pass by and just generally keep an eye on things, but that morning it was really hard to pay attention to all those things because all I could think about was those lonely little walnuts back inside in my food dish just waiting for me to eat them. As my person pushed the mower towards the road, I pictured those walnuts in my mind. As she pushed the mower back towards the woods, I thought about how they would taste. I was thinking so hard about those walnuts that I almost forgot to squawk at the neighbor when she came outside. When we finished mowing the lawn, my person put the mower back into the shed and we came inside the house and she let me out of my carrier. I scrambled as fast as my little parrot feet could carry me up my person’s arm, into my cage, and over to my perch, which is right next to my food dish. I stuck my beak right in the dish and picked up a piece of walnut. Mmmmmmmm. That walnut sure tasted good. Anticipation makes the best condiment.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

My person eats almost her entire plateful while I wait and wait and wait. Sometimes she leaves the garbage on the floor instead of on top of the washing machine and I have to wait and wait and wait until she leaves, and at any moment she might remember and put the garbage back up on the washing machine before I can knock it over and pull everything out on the kitchen floor to find the good stuff. I have to jump up in the air over and over just to keep from bursting. Sometimes, anticipation feels like it will make me explode.

Dijon the Bichon