Steve was in the kitchen preparing White Dog Army meals as I finished filling and rolling tortillas to be griddled into yummy burritos for OUR dinner. The fresh flour tortillas were folded around turkey, refried beans, a cheese blend, olives and spicy salsa, I had a plate that I stacked them on as I finished before plopping them on the hot griddle iron.
There was a commotion outside and I turned my head for an instant at the sound of dogs fighting. Trixie, our opportunist, seized the moment to curl her jaws around one of the plump filled wraps and tried to swallow it whole.
As I shouted at her to "Drop It!" (as if that would happen), her eyes went wide and she fell over on her side. She was choking on the thing crammed in her mouth, cutting off her air, but too big to swallow. I could not pry her mouth open...even as she choked she was NOT surrendering her prize. Steve ran up behind her and grabbed her by the harness lifting her off of the ground. That action dislodged a chunk the mangled mess and she swallowed the rest; then I heard her gulp in air...as she began to struggle with Steve to get the rest of the burrito. He pulled her back a few feet.
Which allowed the rest of the White Dog Army to swarm in to see what they had missed. I pushed everyone away and scooped up as much of the remains as I could. Steve let go of Trxie and the entire Army licked the spot long past the presence of any molecules of Southwestern deliciousness.
"You know that was the extra for dad's lunch," I told the totally unrepentant Big Beautiful Girl. "You could have choked to death." "Yes," Sachi giggled, "as it was you pooped yourself!" I looked at him sternly, Steve had already cleaned up.
White Dog shook her head. "And THIS is why I prefer to eat alone."
1 comment:
Oh dear, dear Trixie, do be a little more careful!
NukNuk
Post a Comment