I’d like start by letting you know that I omitted the second “i” in Papillon deliberately. It’s in reference to a breed of dog rather than a butterfly (or the city of Papillion, NE which neighbors the town I live in and I’m pretty sure is actually named after a butterfly because next to the highway there’s a giant water tower with one painted on the side). I looked it up to verify and It’s correct. My spell check believes otherwise.
I can’t spare much time to write today, as my house has returned to it’s perpetual state of disgustingness and this morning I had to send my kids to school in the clothes they wore yesterday, right down to the socks. I’m such a good parent. But I can’t resist sharing a quick anecdote in hopes of brightening everyone’s Monday.
The Papillon and the Mini Pancakes
I have a little white and tan Papillon that Mr. husband and I found on the side of the road some five years ago. She was starving and covered in ticks so we baited her with cheese crackers and eventually gained her trust. She followed Mr. husband home, trotting along on his heels. I guess she feels forever indebted to him because to this day she still trots along on his heels wherever he goes and then falls asleep wherever he happens to land. Occasionally she’s awake long to hover under the feet of whoever is in the kitchen in hopes of retrieving a bite or two of “people food”. She also enjoys violently shaking a sock monkey in an effort to murder it, which I think is her life goal. She never succeeds. Eventually she gives up and falls asleep again. By eventually I mean three minutes. This is where she put it today.
I have no idea how that happened.
Last night I was bagging some mini pancakes that I made for my kids on Friday morning because we ran out of the boxed kind and they were freaking out. Anyway, I was bagging them up since my kids wanted them for dinner and I let them because, whatever. I wasn’t in the mood to fight with them over food.
Because it’s me and I can’t do anything without making a mess, I dropped a whole bunch of them all over the kitchen floor. I felt like bending over about as much as I felt like fighting with my kids over dinner. So I just decided to let the dog enjoy a pancake supper.
A few hours later I sat down to watch “Bonnie and Clyde” on the History channel. I’m a nerd at heart and I like that kind of thing. Then I reached for a blanket, only to discover a mini pancake tucked neatly under it and right in between two couch cushions. My dog had hidden the mini pancakes. All. Over. The. House. My three-story, multiple living area, full of nooks and crannies, house.
I am currently residing in a mini-pancake filled house.
And now I am scrubbing and cleaning and folding laundry and every so often I see, out of the corner of my eye, a little white and tan Papillon trotting by carrying a mini pancake in her mouth. I wonder how many of them there are? I bet it’s a lot.
- A Guide To Papillons, The Most Underrated Of French Imports (buzzfeed.com)