White Dog came in sniffing. "It's lamb night!" she announced bringing the rest of the White Dog Army running. Steve was just finishing plating thick, juicy lamb chops next to braised cauliflower and cheesey mashed potatoes. Four fluffy tails wagged in unison as they crowded inside the kitchen door and struggled to be closest to the chef.
No one was interested in the regular chicken and rice dinner but when given the option of no dinner, no lamb...WD, TOWD, AWD and SAWD inhaled the contents of their bowls and returned to poses of expectation. We carried our dinner in and sat down, surrounded by white fur. They saw the extra plate of bones that we had trimmed from the chops before cooking and to which still clung bits a delicious red meat. We lifted our forks and the Army strained forward in their positions. We savored the first marvelously flavorful bite and eight eyes followed the grilled lamb lovingly to our mouths.
"Are you ready?" I asked Steve. "If you are!" "Who are you serving?" "I have White Dog and Quinn here, you take Nuka and Puff." At that we distributed bones all around...and the only sound heard was the tearing and crunching of Eskies in a lamb swoon.