Sunday Scribblings: It’s About Power

They stare up at me, waiting, their luminous eyes large, and tracking my every move. Every flash of my knife makes their heads twitch a little bit. Every time they hear the blade contact the wooden block they flinch slightly, moving one foot just a little bit, then easing it back into its starting position.

Small worried noises escape from their throats though they are clearly trying not to whimper. They are anxious sounds, loaded with need, hope, excitement, fear. When I glance at them, their eyes seem to bulge, as if it takes all their effort to be quiet, to remain still.

Finally, preparations are complete. I put down the knife, wipe off the wooden block, pick up the matching blue plastic containers, and cross the room, uttering a quiet but firm, “Stay,” under my breath.

To their credit, they obey, until I have placed each container on the floor. Then, almost gleefully I announce their fate with a single word, “Dinner!”

They scramble to be the first to reach a container, gulp down food as if their last meal was far longer in the past than twenty-four hours.

You ask me when I feel powerful? I have power coursing through my veins all the time, but it’s the strongest every day at five.


Because they are dogs, and I am the Keeper of Food Bowls.

Question of the Day

Have you ever fallen in love with a complete stranger…and had a whole affair in the space of maybe three sentences, and one fast moment? Have you ever glimpsed the alternate reality, the limitless possibilities, in an encounter that lasted no more than fifteen or twenty seconds?