I Rule the Universe - Sue

Since the kitchen is a no-fly zone, I burn a citronella candle when I make dog food. We don't have screens on the storm doors, and when I make dog food, it smells like Thanksgiving. There is no turkey in the dog food, but, according to Phyllis, it smells like Thanksgiving. This is what attracts every fly from a tri-state area.

I buy hamburger, pork meat cut up for stew, and boneless chicken breasts at Sam's Club. I get the cheapest brand there is, and then if any have red tags that say "marked down for quick sale," I snatch those up, and quick! I bake and then freeze the dog food, wash pans, and every morning, I steam up a bowl of rice in the rice cooker. I also add eggs, and sometimes, cottage cheese.

Mac usually likes to do the trampoline dance when I'm setting his bowl on the floor. Pete eats his from around the edges first and then towards the middle. Lisle likes to look at her bowl for a minute. I have to sit on the floor and hold it for her, so that it's raised off the floor. Saint Bernards are prone to bloat, and raising it off the floor, supposedly, reduces the chances of bloat. After she looks at the food, a hefty portion, she looks behind her, smells my face (leaving a drip of drool on my cheek), smells the food, decides its okay to eat, she digs in. Her head is so big, you can't see the food once she starts.

They also get boiled beef knuckles, liver, chicken gizzards and hearts about once a week. At all times, there is a a gravity fed tub of Science Diet lamb and meal small bites available, should they care for a between meal snack. You never know when a little something will hit the spot. Whenever cheese comes out, they each get a slice.

Most every day, I get out the scoop shovel and collect what they ate the day before. Sometimes I skip a day. In the winter, I may have to skip weeks, and then, during a thaw, I have a major catching up job. The dogs drag mud into the house and there is hair everywhere. You can even find hair under my metal filing cabinet, which lays flat on the floor. There is hair in my intimate apparel drawer, and hair in my grandmother's fine China set, which is stored in an air-tight vault and buried five deep in the crawl space.

I take Pete for a bike ride almost every day, even if I'm tired, and even in the winter, unless there is too much snow. If I don't take him for a bike ride, he will bug the shit out of me. He has enough pent up energy to light up New York City.

Mac gets brushed every day, for the most part because he likes it, and Lisle when she will tolerate it. Pete not too often because he doesn't shed much.

When I get home from work, I get greeted like fans mobbing a rock star. For a few brief minutes, until they're served their baked chicken, beef and pork with rice, eggs and cottage cheese, I rule the Universe.