I think one of my favorite things about having a dog, a girl named Wanda, is that I’m never alone in the kitchen.
It’s been nearly three years since we adopted her through Small Dog Rescue of New England. I can’t remember cooking many meals without her since. I look down ‒ she’s as short for a dog as I am for a person ‒ and I see her sweet face looking up at me.
I’m no fool.
I know she’s there for all the aromas and the food. But it still charms me, every time.
We have a glass tabletop in the kitchen so she can also see all the food, in addition to smelling it. But she looks and doesn’t touch. There have been other dogs in our extended family who will grab anything in their reach. Two yellow labs once grabbed two blueberry pies upon my arrival at their home and it took me years to bring those family members pies again.
But not Wanda. She only takes food that is handed to her. So I have no worries having her at my side as I prepare a meal or bake.
I’m glad to have the love of a dog in my life, even if I do end up sharing a little roast chicken before it makes any dinner plate.
I’m thinking about this because last month our family took care of two black labs. They too, joined me in the kitchen. One blocked the fridge, the other the door. It was a bit overwhelming. But they sure enjoyed it. Their dog mom is not a cook. So they thought omelets were pretty cool. And those dinner aromas had them swooning, not to mention begging, for a bite.
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