Each to her own. Each to his own. Each to one’s own. We all have our taste.

Biscuit likes all wood pulp and paper products, from artificially manufactured to earth-grown, or as it is now called “sustainable.” The only thing is, when he is done shredding and consuming, it is no longer sustainable. He has taken an interest in the pansies that grew out of pots on our deck, eating both leaves and flowers. He recently ate half of the cover of a favorite author’s book, Isabel Wilkerson’s The Warmth of Other Suns. This is an excellent book. He wanted to sample it when no one was looking, so he did. Biscuit has good taste.

I observed that he was not as discerning when he was small. He ate gravel and small hard things. His palate has evolved somewhat. It isn’t as dangerous, at least in theory. Last night, he ate the blue tape you had put down to mark off measured boundaries for something you were contemplating.

You yell at me for pre-moistening shoes and socks. You yell at Biscuit for consuming his preferred diet.

Between the two of us, we keep you very busy. We both have very good taste. After all, we chose you.

Oliver’s Advice: There is no accounting for taste.


I have to share you with the Biscuit. It is not easy but I am a good and generous dog-boy. 

You and he disappeared for awhile and I was very lonesome. Before you left, I smelled Old Pines,our lake home deep in the earth that smells delicious. You demonstrated all the signs of leaving:sacks of food, little bags of assorted things, going up and down the stairs many times. I was all excited and jumped around, getting ready to get in the back seat of our car, but you left me with Dad. I love Dad but it isn’t the same without you and that big bundle of fur you call Biscuit. Most days I just call him “kid.”

I waited by the back door for several days and finally I heard a familiar sound—the garage door going up and your car driving in and the engine stopping. Finally.

Biscuit was the first to greet me. Then, you came in. I hugged you and hugged you and hugged you and you hugged me back. Just to make sure you weren’t leaving me again, I hugged you some more. You uncurled my legs from your leg and I barked and barked and we all climbed the stairs.

Together again. 

We love each other. No matter what.

Advice from Oliver: If you wait patiently and share nicely, good things come to you.