When will I learn my lesson? Leftovers are a vicious circle in our house. I've tried tobe better but I always end up making too much food. We enevitably have leftovers. We store them in plastic bowls and whatnots with the intention of eating it later. But later never happens.
A week (or so) later you're looking at chili, spaghetti or (no watery) mashed potatoes thinking, well, it hasn't grown anything yet but I really don't want to risk it. So what do I do? Well, I share the leftover with the dogs. They both love their little smorgeshborgs of people food. I know that some of you are gonna say that table scraps are bad for dogs and I totally get it. But I see this occasional dose of whathaveyous as a treat. I guess in that way I am my mother, I show my love through food.
As Cassidy has gotten older her stomach is losing it's cast-iron lining. She has always been a gassy little lady, just ask Schmaren. Cassidy is the first and only dog she has ever heard fart. But lately the combination of an aging tummy and leftover buffet send her farts to a whole new level of disgusting. I swear to all that is holy that she is burning plastic in her stomach and off-gases at night. It is noxious offensive fumes, that hangs, thick like fog, in the room. It tends to only effect one person in the room at a time because of its sloth-like movement through the air. I found myself laying on the couch this weekend with a blanket over my nose and Juanito next to me none the wiser.
I did recently make the connection between the leftover treats and the increase in the burnt plastic gas that makes eyes water and noses possibly bleed. I need to stop giving her "treats." I know this. But she is old. She enjoys the bowls of heaven. She would feel so left out if only Alfie got treats. The least I can do for my senior citizen is make her golden years enjoyable.
Even if our aren't.