Sunday, March 3, 2013


"Hum." I walk in the front door, dragging my six grocery bags in on my dying arm. I plunk them on the floor and look around. It is surprisingly clean in the kitchen. Too clean. The frying pan has disappeared from the stove. The plate as well.
"Liz?" I had left a key for a friend who may have arrived before I made it back from shopping.
No response.
Did someone come in and steal my frying pan?
Orion's following at my feet as I peek in the middle room. I flip the light switch.
Orion cocks his head.
My couch looks as if the recycling bin exploded. There's my strainer, or a piece of my strainer. There's a spaghetti jar, the packaging for the ham that I was going to recycle, the juice box. Pieces. Pieces. Pieces.
He trots back to the kitchen.
I follow, eyes rolling to the top of my head.
But what about that frying pan....
I look under the table, I look in the bathroom, and then I see it--frying pan and broken ceramic plate, beside the stove.
I sigh.
I start collecting pieces.
"Honey if you break these and eat them they can cut up your intestines and then you'll be a dead dog. I don't think my Apple stock can cover that kind of repair work. If you have to, stick to the recycle bin okay?"
Chloe wanders in. She sniffs the pile of broken pottery.
"What were you, the driver when the robbery happened?"
She struts back out.

1 comment:

  1. Just read all of March. And I'm thinking, Orion is one high maintainence pooch. Not unloveable, at all. Oh, and, you're a saint!