If Chloe Could Cook

When Chloe hears activity in the kitchen

She prances in, toenails clicking on the tile

Tail wagging, then sitting politely, waiting patiently

Hoping for a handout

Praying for a handout

Begging for a handout

She wonders what I am doing with those pots and pans

She covets my opposable thumbs

She wishes she could cook herself a meal

Stand up on her hind legs and crack an egg or two into the skillet

Whenever she wants

Scrambled? Omelet? Over easy?

No more settling for our leftover bones

She’ll take the whole steak, thank you very much

A big juicy T-bone on the grill smells great, but sometimes

Grilling takes too long

Would she eat it raw, or just go for some lunch meat

Would she make a dainty sandwich of roast beef, sliced cheddar and tomato on rye

Crusts off, cut on the diagonal

Or just wolf it down

Would she take the time to microwave the beef stew

Or just stick her snout deep into the can and eat it at room temperature

If she could open the pantry door and pull the clip off the chip bag

Would she bother with a bowl for the salsa

When she’s in the mood for cookies

Would she wear Grannie’s green gingham apron -

No batter on the fur, please -

Would she fill them with crumbled doggy treats instead of chocolate chips

Chloe doesn’t really want to learn how to cook

She just wants to learn how to get into the fridge

Nose open the pantry

Crank the can opener

The keys to doggie paradise