A Dinner Disaster

A cast-iron skillet full of gently bubbling spaghetti sauce was on the stove, the smell of basil, tomato, and garlic wafting throughout the house. A saucepan of water was in a roiling boil. For the life of me, I couldn’t find spaghetti noodles in the pantry. Our chow/retriever tried to crowd in with me for a treat.

“Back” I ordered. He wiggled out the door, curled tail wagging, trademark grin on full blast. “I’ve got nothing, Max.” I said, then yelled, "Does anyone know where the noodles are?”

My son yelled from his room, “I used them a few days ago.”

“You’re kidding!” I cried, striding toward his room, almost tripping over Max. “And you didn’t tell me?”

My son came into the hall. “I made lunch on early release day.”

“Dang it, son! Tell me when you use the last of something. Come on! Dinner’s almost ready and I have no noodles!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

I sighed. “Okay. Can you watch your sister for me?”

“Sure,” he replied.

"Don’t let the sauce burn," I said. I grabbed my wallet and keys off the table and ran out the door, barefoot.

***
Disaster averted, we sat at the dining room table half an hour later. My husband reached for the salad, then paused. “Babe, did you forget the tomatoes?”

“What?” I said, “Of course not…” I stared into the bowl: iceberg lettuce, onions. “Wait, where’s the bell peppers? And cucumbers?”

Almost on cue, we all looked at Max, sitting arm’s reach away between my husband and I. “You don’t think?”

I laughed. “I do! When I left, the salad was on the table. Max must have helped himself!”

Now, salad goes in the fridge until we eat, but Max gets generous scraps (no onions) whenever I cut vegetables.

Contest: Booksie Pet Contest- must be 300 words or less and pet related.