In Which I Compare Myself to a Dog

When I was a kid we had a dog, a miniature dachshund by the name of Gretel. Gretel had a number of allergies, so many, in fact, that my parents made her homemade dog food. Every 4-6 weeks or so, they’d get some cheap lamb bones and boil them with plain white rice. The remaining meat and rice formed the basis of Gretel’s meals, which were measured out and frozen for future use.

Now on the days my parents made her food, Gretel would go nearly crazy. She knew this food was hers and she wanted it all. Now. She’d get underfoot. She’d whimper. She’d beg. Thinking back on this (and other scenes from my youth), I think I’ve got the material for a TV sit-com.

Moving forward, I have renewed sympathy for Gretel. You see, today’s photo is another of the three Laurent sent me earlier this week. It’s the meal Frédérique served last Saturday night. Seeing it, duck confit, makes me feel like Gretel must have felt on the days my parents made her meals. I’m begging…

The picture also prompted me to go online and search for duck confit. I found it on Amazon, but it’s so blasted expensive. I went so far as to add it to my cart, then removed it at the last second.

Gretel, help me!

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