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There’s no substitute for bacon.

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We all suffer frustration when things that seem common every day affairs don’t automatically happen. In fact, we’re so set in out ways, we don’t even notice they’re missing until we’re well into what took their place. Take Seamus. 3579450969_76c8c26b26_z

Every morning, whether at home or at the cabin, Seamus goes through gyrations until he gets to share my bacon. He just automatically assumes every plate or bowl I eat from while sitting in a chair catching up on the computer in my bathrobe, has at least two pieces of bacon, which he gets a piece of. This morning, “She Who Must Be Obeyed” dropped a bombshell. “We’re out of bacon,” she said.

Seamus heard this but it apparently didn’t register because he kept up his morning ritual of waiting in the kitchen for someone to fix something on the stove. Finally, “She Who Must Be Obeyed” came in with a plate of scrambled eggs with bacon bits from a bag and Seamus was there right on cue waiting for me to eat several rashes of bacon and share.

I ate the eggs and leaving a few morsels, I held the plate in front of him and let him lick the morsels, which he did with gusto. Finally, getting a taste of bacon, he was confused but seemed to know there wouldn’t be any more coming.

Long story short: he ate his dog good, came back into the living room, picked a spot where he could keep an eye on me and did his best to make me feel guilty.

I was going to make a comment to “She Who Must Be Obeyed” about not having any bacon, but as I looked at Seamus, there wasn’t room in the corner where he was laying.

We’re off to the store.

TD


There’s no substitute for bacon.

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