Last night was the last hurrah of my week of birthday celebration. Yes, I hear your mutterings, “Birthdays get less significant as you get older” and “How can you keep it up for so long”. Anyway, the seven of us went out for dinner at Spettro’s, on Lakeshore Avenue in Oakland.
I ordered steamed mussels in coconut milk for an appetizer, and using the argument “they grow on rocks”, was unsuccessful in convincing a strict vegetarian to try them.
Over dinner, while eating osso buco, I explained the dream that I had awoken to that morning: my housemates and I were playing Clue on a board that resembled our own house. Discussion then begun on whether the cat Skyler would be a suspect in his own right or a weapon in his own weight and which rooms would connect by secret passages.
Anyway, we all get back home and the two dogs, a miniature poodle and a toy fox terrier meet us at the door. I feel a bit of the daily evil coming on as I stand in the kitchen, putting away the leftovers. So, I open my takeout box, turn the haunch of lamb a couple of times to get the meat off, and drop it on the floor between the two tiny dogs. Both of them thought it was a trick. The poodle backed off, unbelieving in the actuality of the offering. The toy fox terrier stood in astonishment, looking from the bone to me, then again. It took a couple of minutes of cajoling from their owner to convince them that the bone was dropped deliberately, and intended for them.