Beau’s Foraging Fiasco

Me: Beau! Do you have to eat every disgusting thing you find on the rocks?

Beau: Disgusting? That was a gourmet delight. A wild-caught, sustainably foraged delicacy from the sea. You just don’t have the sophisticated palate for it.

Me: I’d prefer you get your “gourmet delights” from the bowl I serve you.

Beau: You mean like the promised T-Bone that has yet to make an appearance?

Me: I’m getting to it. I gave you a plate of sirloin yesterday, remember?

Beau: Scraps, you mean.

Me: Those were perfectly good morsels!

Beau: Morsels being the operative word. What has driven me to forage like a truffle pig, Louise, is your promised T-Bone. In the absence of such a delectable, life-affirming manifestation of your commitment to me, I have been forced to forage. It’s a question of survival, a way to quell my profound yearnings. It’s a dawg-thing.

Me: That’s what you call it? Eating some long, slimy, squiggly worm-like creature is a “dawg-thing”?

Beau: Yup. We are of the earth. Born of nature. Wild creatures who hold, deep within our DNA, the memories of our forbearers. Hunters. Herders. Helpers. And when our humans fail to provide sustenance that fills the belly and soothes our ruffled fur, a dawg’s gotta do what a dawg’s gotta do to please his palate, Louise. Especially when his so called ‘hooman’ doesn’t follow through on her commitments.

Me: I haven’t not followed through, Beau. I just haven’t gotten to it yet.

Beau: Ah, so like the book you’ve been “writing forever” and haven’t touched in weeks? Or the garage that’s still full of unpacked boxes when it was supposed to be “car-worthy” by end of summer? It’s the first day of autumn, by the way.

Me: Ouch! Low blow, Beau.

Beau: What? Pointing out your persistent, albeit irrational human tendency to procastinate, is a low blow? I’m just stating the obvious, Louise.

Me: Well, don’t.

Beau: So milady has an Achilles’ heel, I see. She doth protest when the obvious nature of her procrastination is remarked upon. Fear not, dear Louise, for you cannot heal what you do not acknowledge.

Me: With you around, it’s pretty hard to forget anything, Beau.

Beau: In that case, how about you not forget your promise to give me my T-Bone?

Me: UNCLE! UNCLE!

And so it goes. Beau, once again, lobs a truth bomb right into the mess of my human foibles.

Beau: You mean the mess of your unfulfilled commitments, right?

Me: Whateverrrrrr.

Smiling oh so sweetly and confidently, he continues his search for more “delicacies” from the sea.

Ugh. It really was disgusting!