guess who comes to dinner

9 Jul

There are five of us who eat the human food, and one who just licks the floor. Every once in awhile she’ll try and snitch a piece of pork, or maybe a cracker from the table, then looks at us, surprised, when we reprimand her.

“Whaaaat?” she seems to question.

Or rather, since we’ve decided if she could speak she’d have a Russian or possibly German accent, it’s more like, “Vhuuuut?”

While we eat and shoo her away, she mostly skit-skats around the apartment, licking up any corner of the kitchen floor previously unlicked, peeking into the dressing room before claiming it too dark to venture into, then stretching out on the rug (in the winter) or the hardwood floor (in the summer) for a bit while we blather on. By dessert she is up and sniffing again, weaving in between bodies and legs, looking for a pet behind the ears, usually ending up next to, if not half on top of, Everyone Needs A Julie.

Because dogs can always sniff out the non-animal people in a crowd. And then make a beeline for them.

Not that ENAJ kicks puppies or burns ants with a magnifying glass or anything remotely near the sort, she is just not, by her own definition, an animal person.

And yet Greta looks at her with such adoration.

“I luhf you,” she seems to say, and sometimes she even seems to bat her eyes.

Can dogs bat their eyes?

No matter.

And then even ENAJ can’t resist Greta.

A couple of times, we’ve stayed so long and talked so much, well past dessert even, that Greta just gives up, puts her head on her paws and snores away until it’s time to go.

She is our barometer like that.

Clearly the sign of another successful dinner.


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