August 26, 2021

White Dog smiled. "THAT'S my boy!"

When Roman came to us he was severely underweight, had just spent more than half a year foraging in the wild, and would eat anything if it had the potential to be food. White Dog, conversely, grew up a privileged child never in want of anything who has a very refined, read that picky, palate.

She understands that their differences grew out of opposing needs and fears. "When Roman joined us, he was never sure there would be a next meal and he certainly never wanted to walk away from something that might fill his belly...no matter whether he liked the taste or not. When you fear going hungry you don't stop to ask if the cheese is domestic or imported," she laughed at herself but made an important point.

Tonight, when my prep chefs Bai, Zso, and Opal noshed on bits of the yellow beets I was peeling and slicing, Roman politely took a piece sent out to the kitchen, made a face of disgust and turned his back to drop the beet bit on the floor. Dinner prep froze as all looked on. Bai and Zso rushed to the gate to make a claim on the discarded vegetable.

White Dog cheered. "It takes a certain level of security and trust you will be fed to do that. Most would not understand but I think we just crossed another progress marker."