Today I am working from home so that I can keep an eye on the beast (aka my dog Pasha Bean). She has chewed her way out of every cone, life preserver, crate, leash, collar, everything that is supposed to keep her confined post-surgery. The girl just wants some love. Today is also my oldest oldest friend Emily’s birthday. She reminds me on a regular basis how much fun it is to write children’s stories (pretty much just for her) so today I thought I’d actually share the latest. It came about a few months ago when I was thinking of a name for this very blog (it took me a year to settle on a name). I was visiting my brother and my sister-in-law in Boston and we thought of oh so many names that just didn’t quite work- but this one sounded kind of cute. So I wrote a story for my friend Emily.
PS- it’s about food so I figured I’m allowed to post it.

Pasha Bean and the Berry Jar

Once there was a small puppy named Pasha Bean. She was named so
because she was a clown and smelled like coffee. She played and
played, and ate and ate and played some more. She grew up. but she
didn’t just “grow up”, she really grew, and grew and grew. She grew so
much that her mom and dad had to keep replacing her doggie house. They
bought a bigger one and bigger one until one day they realized Pasha
Bean’s house was as big as theirs!

She ate a 35 pound bag of dog food every day. And still she wanted
more. Then one day, while her mom and dad were out at work all day,
Pasha Bean found her dog food and ate it. She ate all 35 pounds, but
she wasn’t satisfied. So she searched and searched her home and she
found strawberries that weren’t ripe; she found lemons that made her
mouth pucker; she found eggs that she couldn’t break; she found
blackberries that were too high to reach; she found lentils, quinoa,
and grains galore, but nothing that she could eat.

Pasha Bean sat. She pondered. She looked around. The only thing that
looked delectable were those darned blackberries so high up. She
jumped, but nothing. She stood on her tippie-toes, and nothing. She
moved a ladder with her nose, but couldn’t quite get it right. She sat
and thought. Then she remembered Oliver. Oliver was her next door
neighbor who caused havoc everywhere he went with his big waggy tail.
She whistled. He jumped through their secret hole in the fence. Pasha
pointed to the berries. Oliver smiled.

Oliver took a warm-up lap around the kitchen. He stretched his paws,
he cracked his knuckles. Then, he raced around the kitchen at full
speed and took a flying leap off of pasha Bean’s great big back and he
landed square on top of the fridge. He did NOT think about the
slippery-slipperiness on top of a fridge. he lost his balance. He
toppled over and off the fridge, bringing the contents of EVERYTHING
down with him. Pasha was covered in those berries. Then down came the
flour jar, then the sugar jar, then came those unripe strawberries.
Oliver dashed back home without a peep. Pasha sighed. She sat,
defeated. She lay down in that mess. She sighed again.

She fell asleep in that berry mess. When she woke up, she stretched.
She licked her lips and stretched some more. Then she stopped. She
licked her lips once more. And once more. She realized whatever was
all over her tasted delicious! That mix of sugar and berries and more
sugar and more berries was the most delicious thing she’d ever eaten.
She shoved what she could into the now empty jar with her nose. She
licked everything off the floor, off her fur, and off the sides of the
fridge.

When her mom and dad came home from work they saw a slightly sticky
pasha. They pet her, let her out, and then looked around for what to
make for dinner. They saw a jar filled with sweet black and red. They
opened it. They tasted it. They couldn’t remember where they’d bought
it but it was tasty. They put it on their cereal. They spread it on
toast. And Pasha just sighed from outside .