Love in Laughter

It’s going to sound silly. I know it is. But my most favorite meal happened about a week ago, and it is another one of those days I will never forget. It was Valentine’s Day and my adoptive parents opted to cook together rather than go out to a fancy restaurant.

I savor these nights, because (obviously) they are home instead of leaving me, but also because they laugh. Oh, how they laugh. They talk about their day and they laugh together, and (every now and then) they even dance. They laughed that night, but it wasn’t necessarily about anything particularly funny. That’s the best kind of laughter in my opinion.

The steaks burned in the cast iron skillet enough that the house filled with smoke, and dad had to open all the windows and doors to be able to see through his glasses. I know because he cleaned his glasses, mom’s glasses, and the moving picture window while mom finished making their surf and turf dinner. And then they laughed. It’s February in Wisconsin, so it is far too cold to have doors and windows open. But they didn’t mind. They laughed instead.

The steak had a surprisingly happy crust on it according to both mom and dad while they ate, which made them both smile regardless of the haze that remained in the room well after dinnertime had passed. The lobster turned out perfectly, which they both found pride in since lobster that good at a restaurant would have cost at least three times what they spent on it. And, best of all, dad let me lick his plate clean.

This may sound like common practice in some doggie lives, but it was a first in mine. Even my mom (who breaks many of my doggie rules when dad isn’t looking) has never let me lick her plate clean. It was truly a landmark day in my life.

Dad used to say “I don’t love him, he’s a dog.” Now he’s let me lick his plate. He doesn’t have to say it. I know he loves me. And I love you too, dad. I just wanted you to know.