Grandma let me out first thing this morning. “Go take care of your business,” she said.
“Why do you call pooping ‘business’?” I asked.
“I grew up in Mississippi, and that’s what my grandmother called it. When I was a little girl, my tummy would be hurting and she’d say, ‘Go take care of your business’. When I came out of the bathroom, she’d ask, ‘Did you get results?’ I’d answer, ‘Yes, ma’am,'” then she’d let me go outside to play.”
I saw her watching me through the window. When I came back in, she asked, “Petey, we have over 100 acres where you can do your business. Why do you leave your results right by the house?”
“So you won’t have to walk,” I said.
“Don’t have to walk?”
“Every time I poop, you go and look at it. You’re always fussing at me for playing in poop whenever I get the chance, but you sure seem interested in mine!” I looked straight at her.
Grandma started laughing. “The reason I look at your results is to make sure your stomach is healthy. Gut health is where being healthy begins.”
“Gut? I like that word!” I began running around her barking, “Gut-gut-gut-gut-gut…”
“Petey, STOP!” Grandma yelled, still laughing.
“What does gut mean?”
“It means what’s in your stomach. So I look at what comes out of your stomach to make sure you are healthy.”
“Why is my food different from Samule’s?” (The neighbor’s dog is Samule- spelled correctly because he’s a Jack Russell terrier and stubborn as a mule. He eats dry kibble.)
“I give you raw meat because you are sensitive to regular dog food, and you go crazy when you eat it!”
I do not like it when she brings that up. When I was a puppy, she gave me dry puppy food, and I did not mind her. Not one bit. She said I was a terrorist. Whenever she tells those stories to other people, I get embarrassed. I go get in my bed and try to take a nap. Those tales will have to be on other blog posts. I’m not sure I even want you to know, but maybe you’ll read about them one day.
So, this morning, Grandma baked me some cookies.
They have pumpkin, and apples, and oat bran and eggs in them. She adds Dinovite, a vitamin powder, to keep me going. She just made up the recipe this morning because she wants me to eat fiber.
Raw meat has calmed me down, but fiber helps the GUT! I love that word. The problem is that when she puts dry oatmeal on my food, I pick it out, put it to the side and don’t eat it.
“Petey, how do you do that- picking out that tiny bran? she scolds at me.
“My teeth. I don’t like the way it feels in my mouth. Plus, there is no taste. It’s like eating a stick. That powder sticks to my tongue like sand!”
Grandma likes to be agreeable. She does not want arguing. So she’s been thinking about it and made the cookies this morning. THEY ARE SO GOOD! I had two of them and wanted more, but she said anymore today would mess up my business results.
So I ask you, if you had a choice, what would you want for breakfast? The yucky stuff on the meat or the tasty cookies? Cast your vote in the comments below.
I rest my case.