Good Taste

Baby had tried her parents’ cranberry-juice, club-soda combination in the vicinity of a dozen times before tonight. The look on her face had ranged from that of someone who had just eaten a lime to someone who had just been grievously insulted. But she kept asking for sips from our cups. Tonight, from her daddy’s glass, she drank the tiniest bit of the eye-catching substance and then rolled her eyes with satisfaction and stuck her tongue out with joy. Then she asked for (and received) more ten or twelve times, tapping her teeth on the glass in anticipation, taking the biggest swallow she could, and then walking around and singing some kind of Polynesian victory chant. She has good taste.

Circle of Life -- Continued

Baby has taken to hugging the dogs. It started with Boo, the larger of the two. She has begun waiting until he lies on his side on the carpet, then drapes herself over his back, and lays her head on his abdomen. He acts like he’s just tolerating her affection, but I’m not buying the act and I don’t think baby is, either. Charlie, who is older and whose health is failing, got his first hug tonight after dinner. She sidled up to him in the dining room where he was standing, wrapped her arms carefully around his midsection, and lay her head on his back. He’ll have to be put down in the next week, more than likely, and the image of her giving him affection at this time in his life got my stomach in a knot.