Cabbage Rolls

Yummmmmm...... I've been jonesing for cabbage rolls for a long time now. Yummy, fragrant, comfort food cabbage rolls. Enrobed with glorious tomato sauce, fat juicy cabbage rolls. Comforting, anticipated, hand-rubbing cabbage rolls. I had created these jewels Sunday evening in a cooking frenzy, something that rarely happens but when it does yields food for weeks of comfort grazing, no need for Malt-O-Meal What Do I Eat Tonight fare, no need for KFC What Do I Eat Tonight artery clogging dinners, no need for Nothing Sounds Good What Do I Eat Tonight musings. Nope, I had cooked many things that night, I had savored, I had anticipated, I had rubbed my hands together until the palms were chapped. I popped the pan of rolls into the oven last night to cook while I watched Dancing With The Stars, Kate REALLY NEEDS TO GO, put them on the stove top to cool while I watched LOST, oh that Desmond (dreamy sigh). And then.... Then I forgot. I forgot the delicious cabbage rolls were sitting on the stove top, cooling. I had one of my frequent senior moments and I forgot. They didn't spoil overnight, no, they didn't. They didn't have a chance to spoil. In fact, they didn't stand a chance at all, period. Because I forgot, the senior moment overtook me and I forgot. At 5:02 am this morning I was awakened to the sound of a baking pan being shoveled across the kitchen floor. I laid there with my eyes staring wide open like great big golf balls, a cold sweat popping out of every pore in my body, my mind frozen with the thought of cabbage rolls lost, cabbage rolls gone, cabbage rolls vanished while I listened to the metallic scrape, screech, lurch and bump across the tiled kitchen floor. I was frozen in time, incapacitated by dread and fear, the fondly remembered smell of baking cabbage rolls retreating slowly but surely from my memory as softly as a summer days fluffy cloud. I laid there breathing deeply, reining in my mounting fury, readying myself for the coming disappointment. I made my way to the kitchen and was greeted by a fat, tummy bulging, tail wagging, Thank You Mom, Thank You!, Beauford. The Prince couldn't have been prouder of himself or more satiated if he had tried. Grinning, tongue lolling, tail whirling in circles, he greeted me with great jubilation until.... I bellowed "What did you do!!!!!". The Prince could not have deflated any faster if you had poked him with a hat pin. Head down, tail tucked, he retreated to the living room where I bellowed "What did you do!! Get up in that chair and lay down!!" Okay, okay, I know. It wasn't Beauford's fault. It was like I was baiting him or had created this culinary delight for his exclusive enjoyment. How do you explain to a Counter Surfer that every single editable thing within his reach is not his? That some of those things belong to me? That I didn't make them for him, I made them for me? How do you do that? How? You can't. It was my fault. I forgot. I had a senior moment and in that very instant the cabbage rolls became Beaufords. Am I still mad? Yes. Can I still taste those rolls in my mind? Yes, but only faintly. Do I blame The Prince? Well..... Wellllllll........ No. I suppose. But don't you dog owners often wonder just how stupid or smart they are? Don't you sometimes wonder if all the sage advice and knowledge available for us to read and live by is just hog wash? Don't you often wonder if they do know, anticipate, think, reason, understand and in the end..... Outfox us? Don't you? If you don't then you're not a true dog custodian, you are simply an owner who isn't really an owner, who houses a dog and will forever more never understand how things happen because it's true. They do know, they do anticipate, they do think and reason. We care for them, inoculate them and license them so the authorities know who to come looking for when things happen. In the end, most importantly, we love them and they love us, we wouldn't have it any other way. As a wise sage once said, 'Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole'. Beaford. The Prince. I love you. But DAMN IT, couldn't you have left me just one?