He flourisheth as the green bay tree
May. 12th, 2011 05:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceEvery now and then, I - yes, even I - like sardines on toast for lunch. The toast, of course, is my own sourdough; the sardines - well. Suffice to say that today's sardines came with their own bayleaf in the tin, 'k? These are good sardines.
Anyway. Lunch happened, as it does. Mac materialised, as he does. He volunteered to spare me the washing-up; I said sure, fine, whatever, and went back to reading m'book. Next time I looked up, he was straining severely, much like a cat who has been watching too many snakes and tried to swallow something bigger than his head. Just for a moment there, I was anxious; but one last effortful gulp and it was gone, and he was back to licking the very last streaks of olive oil from the plate.
From the entirely clean and empty plate.
Yup. There went the bayleaf.
I'm sure it must be good for him. Mustn't it...?
Anyway. Lunch happened, as it does. Mac materialised, as he does. He volunteered to spare me the washing-up; I said sure, fine, whatever, and went back to reading m'book. Next time I looked up, he was straining severely, much like a cat who has been watching too many snakes and tried to swallow something bigger than his head. Just for a moment there, I was anxious; but one last effortful gulp and it was gone, and he was back to licking the very last streaks of olive oil from the plate.
From the entirely clean and empty plate.
Yup. There went the bayleaf.
I'm sure it must be good for him. Mustn't it...?