………………Oh! Excuse me, I was just uh…um, well I guess there’s no pretty way to say it- I was licking my butt. It happens. Do you see how close to the ground I am? If your naked hiney touched the disgusting ground I sit on everyday, you’d lick it too.
For my debut of No Rosievations I stay close to home. Wood floors, chewed up babies (the toys, not real ones), a glowing ambience are only a few things that make home just that. I didn’t have to travel many miles, endure hardships, or encounter strangers to take part in this amazing meal of Pork Chop; all here in this amazing land of home. Drink it in, let that tongue out and whip up laps of delicious pork fat for the taking. I must admit, before the chop hit the skillet I was ready for it. That metallic smell of blood had me drooling, bone marrow squealed in a plea for me to suck it up… if I had lips that is. I watched from my spot at Moms ankle, knowing full well in a matter of seconds she would step back and almost fall to her death. I moved in the nick of time to miss being crushed in her potential fall though, had she fallen I would have gotten the raw chop. Curses foiled again. I love you, Mom!
With the chop simmering in the pan, I stay on my perch of the couch. I sniff and wait, I know their routine. After at least 8 months (dog time) I hear her ridiculous call for dinner, she sounds like a loon but I love her. I jump up and follow Dad into the kitchen only to be stopped dead in my tracks by a strange noise coming from Dad’s face. It compels me to pause, I try to move my feet and I can’t. My head lowers for dramatic effect, it goes unnoticed. I go to my chair.
PORK CHOP! There it is, Mom is cutting the fat off the sides and inspecting it like she does all meats. I’ve never met such a picker eater, who throws away bones? I mean really. Dad is going full force and I know in my hearts of hearts he will devour the entire morsel, but the bone. Oh, the bone. You crunchy, satisfying dangerous treat we of the dog variety like.
Mom is still eating and she hands me a taste of the fat she disapproves of. OH MY DOG. It was like giving a heroin addict just a drop in the vein. I watch Intervention when Mom and Dad are gone. It makes me feel weird.
THEY’RE DONE! Mom polishes off the rice on her plate that’s too spicy for me, she eats the last chunk of some strange object. It looks like a small version of those really big things squirrels run up and males mark on. Doesn’t smell good, I keep my eyes on the bone. So much meat it carries still, SO MUCH MEAT!
Dad looks at Mom and noise comes from his face, his fingers are poised over the chop remnants. She looks at me and back to Dad, I must control myself from attacking her face when all I see is a pork chop on shoulders.
The chop is dropped, I’m told to stay. I don’t get this, ever, but apparently it pleases them for me to freeze myself. Humans.
Oh the chop, the chop is everything anyone could ever want. A little meat, some fat and cartilage, and the bone. The bone guys, totally under rated in the human world. CCHHAQUAK! Sorry, bone in my throat. What was I saying? Oh yes, the bone is totally under rated. I know nothing about seasoning nor saucening, I’m sure Mom did awesome…if this bone is any indicator.