The Kitchen Dance

Papa got a brand new stove. And he fixed himself a meal tonight, which reaffirmed this kitchen thing ain't working.

He opens a cabinet door, and I gotta move. He opens the dishwasher, and I gotta move. He opens the big cold food box where the cheese lives, and I gotta move.

When is that old dog gonna learn to keep everything open so I can find place to plop down and wait for the manna to fall from the counter?

"DAD! Can you hear me? Keep everything open so I don't have to keep moving. Woof!"

Happily, the kitchen dance did bear fruit tonight. But maybe I should say it bore vegetables - raw barkccoli. I've never had it before, but I'll eat it again; although, it's not my first choice.

Like I said, barkers can't be choosers.

B.