Driving home from my workout last week, an intense desire to gorge myself came over me. I wanted an Italian hoagie, a big steak and a million chocolate covered almonds. David was out of town, so I could have had any or all of those treats without fear of judgment. But, since I just came from the gym, I decided on a healthy, high protein, immediately accessible option: a rotisserie chicken from Sprouts.
The aroma of the rotisserie chickens was heavenly from the second
I entered the market. I couldn’t wait to dig in. I envisioned placing the whole
glorious bird on a plate in front of my seat at the kitchen table, with a
fork and knife that I might or might not use. Call me a scavenger but so be it;
I’d be a happy one. My pescatarian husband being away was a relief; I had no
desire to witness his reaction to my uncivilized attack on the chicken in its
natural form, which I knew he would find extremely distasteful.
As I opened the front door of my house, I was suddenly
transported back to life with SheaDoggy. The smell receptors in his nose were
off the charts when I’d walk in with a rotisserie chicken. He would turn into a
crazy little man, a demon doggy – and while I couldn’t even walk to the kitchen
without his jumping on me a dozen times, pulling at the shopping bag, running in circles, squealing and carrying on, I got such pleasure seeing
that precious furry child of ours so joyful.
Sometimes I wanted to put the whole chicken in front of him
to let him have a go at it, but I was afraid he’d make himself sick, and then
I’d end up in the doggy ER. Instead, I’d stand at the sink, cut it up and drop it in his bowl as quickly as I could so he wouldn’t start freaking out
again. Initially I sat down to have the meal with him, but that was a
ridiculous expectation on my part that he would stay calm while I planned for
us to enjoy the meal together. While I liked treating our pup like a king every
now and then, this frenzied routine was a relief when it was over; however, the
memory of it many years later made my day.
Good memories are wonderful gifts. They replay ordinary, everyday
moments – not especially significant at the time – and, with the right trigger,
allow us to remember, to laugh, to relive that feeling once again.
