04.01.11
Travis cannot smell just anything. In fact, most things he lacks the ability to smell. Or distinguish. I am the one who has to check if the milk is old.
Or the broccoli is bad. Or If the dog peed on the dog bed, again.
But when there is something in the oven. . .
a baked chicken,
some chocolate chip cookies,
a fresh loaf of Irish soda bread . . .
he knows when it is ready.
His internal clock, or timer, if you will, tells him so.
He just takes one sniff, his nose tilted up, and says “It’s ready.”
More often than not, I walk over to the oven and sure enough, there is only 15 seconds left on the timer. He was right. . . again. He takes pride in such a gift. As he should. No burnt cookies around these parts. Not with a nose like that!
The trash, however. . . well a dead animal could be decaying in there and he wouldn’t know it.
Note: This is not my trashcan. I recycle. And I'm not a pig.
Glad we have my sense of smell for that.
No comments:
Post a Comment