“OMFG the dog ate the fruit cake. The whole freaking $30 fruit cake minus the one slice I got last night. We all might be wearing beagle mutt skin caps tonight.”
The night before I had happily opened the Collin Street Bakery fruit cake. It arrived from Texas and was like a gift from my grandmother. She grew up in an orphanage up the road from the bakery. Not having much of a family legacy to share, she was always so proud to send these fruit cakes out from the statewide-famous Collin Street Bakery. That was her thing…The wonderful thing she had to share from her childhood town. She had a few people on a standing gift list and the bakery would send them out each year on her behalf. Somehow one always made it’s way to me, even though I moved locations more than a grasshopper. There was a time when I lived in a squat in the Lower East Side, and sure enough, one turned up at work.
My Christmastime touchstone to my beloved grandmother had been devoured. It was a tradition I continued after her passing in 1996, a way to keep her in my heart during the holidays.
And that damn dog took it.
But then my sadness turned to worry as I realized she had eaten a really big amount of stuff that is really not good for dogs. Raisins, pecans, dates…Ugh. And who knows when she got on the table and ate that thing? It could have been right before we woke up or hours earlier while we all slept. Grr. That dog!
Raisins often lead to renal failure in dogs. But at the time of discovery we were well past the window when she would have shown initial symptoms and were pretty much in the clear. As of this morning there were no other signs outside of the gift left for me on the landing outside the master suite that provided evidence that she hadn’t even chewed that cake before gobbling it all down. (Enjoy that image! You’re welcome.)
But I suppose that’s just another layer to the memories that’ll arrive with that fruit cake each year. Damn dog. She sure is cute.