The other night, after suffering the full hour of torture by the dogs, I finally went down to the basement to feed them. It seems that our dogs believe that they should be fed at least an hour before their actual feeding time. They paw at me, fling themselves in my path (as if taking me down would hasten their dinner time… I am old, I could break a hip), whine, direct their breath cannons my way. In a way, I get their plan. Maybe, if they are annoying enough, I will feed them early, just to stop the insanity. But, feeding the dogs early is a slippery slope, because the next day, they will start even earlier. So, I keep dinner at 6 pm, and endure the hour of torture. 

Finally, the magical six o’clock hour comes alone. I can almost hear their thoughts, “OH JOY! OH JOY! IT’S TIME TO EAT! IT’S REALLY TIME TO EAT!” Then, they stand at the top of the stairs to make sure that I know where the food is located. For some reason, in this house, we feed the dogs in the basement. The dogs wait until I start down the stairs before barreling past me so that they can turn around at the bottom and bark at me for the last few stairs. It’s a great ritual. Not risky at all.

The rest of the food prep went as usual. They jumped around, as much as 14 and 13 year old dogs can jump around, barking in joy and reminder, in case I should get distracted from the task at hand. I’d like to say that I wouldn’t or couldn’t get distracted in such a short time, but it’s happened, so the dogs may have a point here. On this particular evening, I kept moving along, and the dogs ended their feeding ritual with a delicious bowl of food for each of them. As I filled the water bowl from the reverse osmosis behind the bar (that handy Travis installed that), I noticed that both cats were in the basement, which was unusual. Also, both cats were hunting, and not hunting each other, which was even more unusual. I began to wonder if a mouse had gotten into our house. Those cats were all over the basement, looking under the couch, the bar, anything really. Watching the cats dart around, I was amazed by their athleticism, when they typically spend 23 ½  hours a day lounging on various beds and couches. Simultaneously, I was amazed by this apparent mouse’s speed, because the cats were all over the place, and I had yet to spot the mouse. It was chaos!

I am not too bright sometimes, so it took me all that time to realize that, when I had turned on the lights in the basement, I had accidentally flipped the switch for the disco ball. Yes, I have a disco ball in my basement. It came with the house. When we redid the basement (including the ceiling), Travis wanted to get rid of it. But why would you get rid of a perfectly good disco ball that was already wired to an existing light switch? All the wiring work is already done! Well, we did have to cut the new ceiling around the ball hook up, but seriously, WE HAVE A DISCO BALL!!!! And the cats were chasing hundreds of roaming lights around the floor! After I reckoned that there was no mouse, I left the light and disco ball on so the cats could get some exercise, or drive themselves crazy. Either way, it was entertaining. 

On an entirely separate note, but in the same evening, I saw that my favorite oldest daughter had gone to the grocery store and had bought me some gluten free chocolate chip cookies. For reasons that I will not bore you with, I have been gluten free for over six years. I rarely eat cookies of any kind. As I stood there mesmerized by the beauty of this simple purchase, I began to wonder if a person could lose her taste for cookies. As if I wouldn’t enjoy them like I used to because I had been deprived for such a long time. I know, I could buy gluten free cookies any time I like, but I don’t, so this was like a golden moment, basking in the glow of the cookies. So, I ate one… then, I ate ten. I don’t remember eating 2-9, but I am pretty sure I did because no one else was around. When I woke up from my cookie coma covered in crumbs (gluten free cookies are crumbly), I had to admit that the taste for chocolate chip cookies never leaves a person. Then, I hid the rest of the package, from myself and anyone else in the house. But, it calls to me from the back of the pantry. I am never buying these things again. Somehow, my life had been complete without them, but now it is all I can think about. 

Have a great week everyone. I am going to get ready for work and NOT eat any cookies. Well, maybe just one… or ten.