Danny the Dog and Dinner(Radrook) Danny the dog and Dinner


Danny Boy appeared as a puppy at our Newark New Jersey basement apartment door one dark evening in the middle of winter. He was cradled in the armpit of this fellow who reeked of wine and was asking for fifty cents for the dog. Fifty cents bought you a bottle of Thunderbird or Tiger Rosé Wine way back then in 1955.

He was a cute puppy with big, Puppy eyes and adorable brown, soft fur which just cried out to be petted and loved. So after I promised to take care of him, he was bought and made a full-fledged member of our family which consisted of me and my parents.

At first my mom was squeamish with Danny Boy. {That’s the name we gave him based on a film we had seen about a dog of the same name.) He would playfully approach her as she was lying in bed, reaching out with his paws, and she would fearfully hide under the blanket asking me to keep him away. Something to do with being afraid of being too physically close to small animals.

But curiously, what had begun as a bad relationship soon turned into a strong friendship. You see, like every chef, my mother liked to be complimented on her cooking. Now, please note that her cooking involved lots of garlic, onions, olive oil. In short the kitchen would overflow with aromas. Now you tell me - what dog worth his salt could resist something like that.

So, come cooking time, Danny would be right there next to her looking up in desperate anticipation for any tid-bit she might deign to offer. Naturally such admiration had to be compensated and Danny was rewarded at first with a few scraps. The problem was that having made a comparison between my mothers' cooking and the bland dog food he had been eating he decided that he wasn't going to eat dog food any longer. So when served his bowl he would sniff it once, turn his head the other way and go sit next to my mother as she cooked.

The more he admired, the more my mother loved him, the larger the pieces of steak he was given, until he was finally being served a full plate of steak, rice and beans with gravy. Naturally this had an impact on family finances.

"What is happening to all the food I'm buying?" my father finally asked warily after opening the refrigerator and noticing just how empty it seemed after just several days of re-stocking it.

"What do you mean what happened to the food?"

"Where is it? Where are all the steaks and the rice and the beans we just bought a few days ago?”

“Where do you think they are.”

“I don’t know. You tell me!”

“They were eaten."

"'Eaten?"

"'Yeah eaten. Isn't that what food is for? To be eaten?"

"'Sure but not at that pace!"

“Well, what do you expect, Danny eats too, you know?"

"What?"

"I said Danny eats too!"

"You mean to tell me you've been giving those steaks to the dog?"

"He eats a full plate at dinner just like the rest of us!"

"Now just a second here! Isn't that a dog?"

"Sure, he’s a dog, but he eats."

“Isn't he supposed to be eating dog food?"

"He doesn't like dog food. He likes my cooking!" she said proudly as she began preparing dinner.

"You mean to tell me that I have another kid on my hands? Another mouth to feed? I didn't know I was adopting another kid when I bought that dog. Feed him dog food! He was eating dog food before. So what the hell happened?"

"That was before Danny made a comparison,"

"A comparison between what?"

''A comparison between that nasty-tasting dog food you bought him and my cooking. You should see how he jumps at my hands when he thinks I'm about to serve dinner."

"Of course he does that. All dogs do that. He's a dog! Don't you know he's a dog?"

"Would you eat that dog food?"

“Me eat what? Dog food? Why should I eat dog food? I'm not a dog!"

"I mean have you tasted it?"

"Why should I taste dog food? Am I a dog to be tasting dog food? No! I haven't tasted it. Have you?"

"Yes! I tasted it to find out why Danny Boy sniffs it and then moves away. I mean when we sniff and move away from things, its because something is wrong- right?

"True! Aaaand?"

"And it tastes like hell that's what! Here just let me get you a small sample!"

"No I don't want..."

"Just a sample."

"Damned!" My father blurted out as he spat out the dog-food after just a slight taste. Why do they make it that way."

"Because they are not the ones who have to eat it."

“So how come the dogs on the TV ads slurp it all up? I don't see them sniffing and turning away. Do you?"

“Maybe it's not the same food. Maybe what they are eating is something else on TV commercials. In order to sell and make money people do anything. You know that! Maybe they keep this junk they sold you stocked up and its either throwing it away or selling it to gullible people like you."

''Like me?"

''Yeah like you. You are the one who believed the commercial and bought it not me. I don't believe everything I see on TV. Now, after tasting it, do you still want me to feed that poor dog that food? I will if you want me to, you know? But remember, that you will be the one torturing him not me."

"How is that?"

"By forcing him to see us eat our delicious food while he’s stuck with that disgusting mess!"

"Why don't you just try cooking his dog food. Fix it up with onion and garlic and olive oil!"

"OK! I will try. But I doubt that I can fix it."

True to her prophecy Danny rejected the modified dog food after barely sniffing it and headed straight for the kitchen as usual come dinner time. Whereupon he was served just like everyone else at dinner. Seeing him ravenously devouring the food, my father shook his head and said:

“This is another one that I brought upon myself.”

“Arf! Arf! Arf!” Danny responded.

“See? He understands you!” my mother said in an amused voice while dangling a small piece of steak for Danny to deliriously behold.

---