Dinner Conversation

Jodi and I sit down to dinner. I have just blackened catfish on the stove. Having made the dish a few times, now I do not use a recipe. I liberally shake cayenne pepper, white pepper, garlic powder, black pepper, and paprika on the fillets and cook them in olive oil for three minutes on each side. The oil is ready when a hint of smoke billows up from the pan.

Jodi props open the side kitchen window to filter the smoke out of the house.

Rex lays on the floor--not begging at all, another thing we like about him.

I microwave two baked potatoes and serve them with pepper and I Can't Believe It's Not Butter Light.

"The strongest sense a dog has is olfactory, you know."

Jodi is eating the bowtie pasta salad she brought home from Cub to accompany the meal.

"This salad's good," she says. "It's got chicken in it."

"When I walked them today, I noticed more how much Rex sniffed things. I was really observing him."

Jodi keeps eating.

"That book I'm reading (Inside of a Dog) says that dogs aren't really marking. They are leaving little notes all around. The notes say: I'm in the area or I'm tough or I'm ready to mate. Ruby left some notes too."

Ruby wags her tail, perhaps thinking I meant that I am about to share some catfish with her.

Jodi polishes off her pasta salad.

"Rex actually pees higher on those tree trunks because he wants the other dogs to be able to smell it. It's at their nose height that way. The wind can make the scent carry farther too."

"Enough." Jodi is drinking her milk.

I cut my potato in fours and butter it, then shake some pepper on. "I used to be grossed out when he would lick pee off the ground, but he's just being a dog."

Jodi nearly chokes on her milk. "Nice dinner conversation. Is this what we've come to?"

I laugh. "Well, if we were really parents, we'd be saying: 'Junior had a B.M. today' and it would sound perfectly normal."

"Enough!" she says again, striking her hand on the table.

And I laugh harder, now remembering my Grandma on my dad's side who always asked us if we had a B.M. each day when we would visit. I can't stop laughing. The catfish is getting cold. It has to be served right away after being fried. This must be tricky timing for restaurants.

"He never did that crotch-sniffing that so many dogs do. Maybe his previous owners punished him for that. Charlie does that," I say, mentioning my sister's dog. I slice off a chunk of catfish and dunk it in light Miracle Whip.

"I'm glad he doesn't do that," Jodi says. "Now can we move on?"

"I'm just saying that those things make him a dog. We're teaching him to be a dog again."

Rex stretches his neck up near the table and sniffs then lays down underneath again with a loud thunk.