Cooking Failures

Tag: dogs

  • Ode to Bacon Hamburger

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    Last summer one of our dogs passed away. We were all very heartbroken and, the day after, my son declared that he wanted a hedgehog. Having a hedgehog as a pet would make him feel better, he said. He was very excited about it and, after the trauma of the previous couple days, I was happy to see him excited.

    Well, I know that you parents out there understand that, when your kid is hurting, you will do anything. Anything! If my kid had told me at that point that he wanted a pet giraffe I would’ve done everything to get that kid a freaking pet giraffe. But he only wanted a hedgehog. That’s got to be a little easier than a giraffe.

    It’s quite surprising how expensive a  hedgehog is. And how difficult it is to obtain one. Even though I had a  million things going on,  I was going to jump right into our hedgehog adventure because that’s what my son wanted.

    Well, I guess it was taking a little longer than expected, so, one day, he just declared that he didn’t want a hedgehog anymore. He just wanted a hamster, and could we go to the pet store and buy him a hamster right then.

    I cringed when he said hamster because my track record with hamsters is not so great. In my lifetime, I think I’ve accidentally killed three. Sammy G, Cupcake and Tyrone. May they all rest in peace. They all deserved better lives that I gave them.

    But, to be fair, being a hamster owner was not what I imagined it would be. I wanted a cute cuddly hamster who wants to hang out with me and watch TV and stuff. One I could just carry around in my purse. One that would just sit by my computer when I do my meetings. I wanted to have a hamster best friend. But I learned that hamsters aren’t really like that.  

    Of course we went to the pet store and we got a hamster. We asked for one that liked to be held and liked to be pet. We found the cutest little long-haired white hamster. I loved  him instantly because he looked like my Bible study leader.

    We brought him home and my son named him Bacon Hamburger. Bacon Hamburger did not like to be held, and he did not like to be pet.

    My son paid attention to him for maybe a week. Then, honestly, I don’t even think he would notice if he was still alive or not. I guess it didn’t really make him happy like he thought it would. I guess it’s human nature to try to look for an easy fix to ease the pain, but I guess, like the rest of us, he realized that getting a new hamster will not fix anything.

    Still, I really wanted to be a good hamster mommy, so I still tried to pet him, and I would try to talk to him, but mostly he just hid in his little log all day.  

    Every morning, I would peek at him and wiggle the log to see if he was OK. I would usually see a little movement out of him. I would leave little treats out for him every morning, and, if they disappeared, that meant that he was still alive. I always breathed a sigh of relief when those little treats were gone. I’m always a little traumatized and scared of being responsible for living things. It’s a big responsibility to keep things alive.

    I always made a point to say goodnight to him when I went to bed. Sometimes, if I was up really late at night, I would go to say goodnight, and he would be out of his little log. He’d be sitting in his food or munching on a treat. And, those nights, I would pull up a chair and I’d have a little heart to heart hamster talk with him. I asked if he was doing OK and if I was doing a good job and if there was anything I could do better. I asked if he needed more toys or anything. It’s hard because I don’t speak hamster. I figured maybe I would tell him a little about my life and about my struggles, so he saw me more as a human with feelings. He was kind of like my therapist who didn’t speak English. Or speak at all.

    I remember, in 2017, we got a dog. I had a dog when I was little, but I’ve never had my own dog. My mom always took care of the dog stuff, so I was never really responsible. What really struck me about taking care of a dog was not the feeding it or the walking it or even the cleaning up the poop. It was just wondering if I was doing it right. I would look at my dog all day and I’d ask her if she was bored? I’d ask her if I was doing this right? I’d ask her if she needed anything. I spent many nights worrying if my dog was bored. Finally, I realized that dogs are bored. That dogs are supposed to be bored. And that they are OK being bored.

    So, back to Bacon Hamburger. Our life went on like this for almost a year. I would peek at him in the mornings and leave him little treats. I would change his cage every couple weeks. We would have 1 a.m. talks every once in a while. But that was the extent of our relationship.

    Life gets busy, and I have a lot on my plate, so taking care of Bacon Hamburger became more of a chore. It became just another thing on my list every morning. Part of my morning pet maintenance along with changing the cat’s pee pee pads and feeding the cat and the dog.  

    One day when I was changing his cage, I noticed he was a little more lethargic than usual. He was still rolling around in his hamster ball and kicking his little legs when I picked him up, but he seemed a little calmer.  

    Unfortunately, he had a little clump of poop stuck in his long hair. I wasn’t quite sure what to do about that, but after Googling it, I found myself soaking his little hamster butt in a little bowl of warm water and massaging the little poop ball, hoping it would melt. Not really my idea of a good time or how I like to bond with my hamster, but man was it a feeling of success when I finally got that poop ball loose. I felt like I just climbed Mount Everest or something. I high fived little Bacon Hamburger and put him back in his newly cleaned cage.

    The next morning, I peaked in his log to check on him, and he was all curled up like he usually is, fast asleep. I wiggled the log like I usually do, but he didn’t move at all. His treats from the night before were not gone, but sometimes he saves them until later in the day. But I knew something was wrong because, as much as I wiggled that log, he did not move at all.

    Now, I am a big strong woman who can do lots of stuff, but touching a dead hamster is one thing I cannot do. My brother was out of town for work, but fortunately he was coming home that evening. I texted him that I thought Bacon Hamburger is dead, but I’m too scared to check for sure, so I’m going to need him to do that when he gets home. Sounds like an odd request, but my brother has lived with me for over five years so I’m sure he didn’t even bat an eye at something like this.

    I did do the log wiggle periodically through the day with the same results, so I was pretty sure he was gone. I was wondering if I should Google hamster CPR to see if there’s any way I could try to save him, but, like I said earlier, I didn’t really want to touch a dead animal.

    Don’t worry, this isn’t one of those my hamster died and I didn’t realize how much I loved him posts. This isn’t one of those, appreciate your hamsters while you can posts. This isn’t even one of those, I feel extremely guilty and regret neglecting my hamster posts.

    But honestly, I did feel sad about losing Bacon Hamburger. There was that regret and that sense of failing but I get that feeling almost every day about different little things. Why is it easier to look at our failures than our successes?

    I posted his cage and all his treats and food on Facebook for free. A woman messaged me and told me that her two young boys have been begging for a hamster. She saw my post as a sign that she could get her babies a hamster. She was so excited about how excited they would be.

    That got me thinking. When was the last time something as simple as a hamster made me happy? Well, to be honest, nothing about hamsters make me happy, but I’m talking about finding joy in simple things. No offense to the hamsters that I just called simple. I’m sure they’re very intelligent, complex animals. Although they do run and run on that wheel and get nowhere. But I guess humans do that on treadmills.    

    I do remember when I was five years old. I went to a friend ‘s birthday party. I fell in love with a little calico kitten and carried her around the whole party. When it was time to go, I cried and cried and begged my mom to let me take her home with me. I honestly remember thinking I cannot live without this little kitten. My mom, let me take it home and I seriously remember feeling the happiest I’ve ever felt in my life. OK, maybe not the happiest I’ve ever felt in my life but that little calico kitten that we named Pirate made me pretty darn happy.

    Where is the joy in my life? How have I forgotten how to find joy. Do I just blah blah blah through my day forgetting to find joy? Is that called being a grown up?

    The woman who took my cage, sent me a message a little while later just telling me how happy her boys were.

    These two little boys getting excited about a hamster reminded me to look for some joy in life. Definitely not by getting a hamster, but maybe I’ll look into getting that giraffe. Or maybe even just a take a nap.

  • Old broken plastic dog toy bins

    Is there anyone else who just doesn’t like new things? A new phone, a new car, even new clothes…. they just don’t excite me. There’s something about the old, the familiar, the well-loved, that just feels so comfortable. It feels like home.

    I wear my clothes out until they’ve disintegrated to nothing. My favorite pair of black pants has holes in the butt, but it’s fine, I just wear black underwear, and no one can really tell. No one’s really looking at my butt that closely.

     I had a favorite gray long sleeve waffle knit shirt that I wore and wore and wore until it fell apart. The collar had come off, the cuffs had come off, the holes in it were too big to keep wearing it, even around the house. I still miss that shirt over 20 years later.

     It’s also as if my old clothes know me. They know how I like them to fit; they know how I like them to feel and when I get up off the couch they say, “ Oh, are you going to get yourself another glass of wine?” Then they high five me  because my clothes know if they are lucky, I will spill some on them and they will get some wine too!

    New clothes are all tight and stiff, and uncomfortable. They try to be all high waisted. No one likes a high waist! I like a low waist. I know that’s your name and what you were made to do, but don’t try to do that stuff around my house. Go low.

    They’re also very judgmental and questioning. “Are you getting ANOTHER glass of wine?” They also freak out when I spill stuff on them.  “Quick! Get the stain stick!” They yell. “Oxy Clean! Shout! Where are you?!”

    “Chill!” I tell them. “You don’t need a stain stick! Or any of that other stuff. We love stains around here. It gives us character!”

    And then there’s my car. I’ve only had it for eight years, but I’ve put over 230,000 miles on it. The back right door doesn’t close properly; the left turn signal doesn’t work unless you push it down really hard. If you just push it down normally, then the right turn signal will come on. I give it a break because sometimes I confuse my right with my left also. 

    The air vent on the far right doesn’t work, the paint is peeling, it has more than a few dents and scratches, and the radio is very finicky. The radio sometimes stops working, but over the years, I have found that I can easily reset it with my earring.

    “Oh, not this again,” I say pretending to be annoyed with the radio and I drive along, pull my earring out and reset it quickly.  Usually resetting the radio fixes it. If not, I just wait until the next day and then it starts working again magically. I guess you need patience with used and well-loved things.

    My car knows me. It knows what I want to listen to, it knows that I like to go below the speed limit and it doesn’t give me a hard time about it. Not like some rental cars that I’ve been in that just want to go fast. My minivan likes going slow and enjoying the view. Just like I do.

    I was going to say it knows exactly how I like my seat, but I just discovered last week that I can adjust the seat so there’s not a big bar sticking in the middle of my back! Who knew?  After eight years? I guess you can still learn new things about old cars no matter how long you’ve known them. And people too. With all its quirks and inconveniences, I love my car and I’m hoping it’ll last another million miles.

    My phone was the worst though. It was really old and well loved. It knew me so well. I don’t think another phone could ever know me so well. I know, I know, people talk about an Apple ID and you just sign in on the new phone and all of a sudden, all your stuff is there and then the new phone knows you too. I don’t really believe that. I got a new phone and I tried it. It doesn’t understand my typos, like my old phone did. This new phone corrects my typos to actual words!!! 

    “That’s not what I meant at all, New Phone! Old Phone would have totally known that” I actually said out loud the other day.

    It doesn’t know that I lose my phone all the time and there’s no reason to panic. Old phone just sits there and rolls his eyes and waits and waits for me to figure out where I left him. 

    New Phone is all panicky. “Where have you been? Why did you leave me alone? I thought you were lost forever!!!”

    New Phone needs to chill out.

    I do think it is pretty cool though how you can put one phone next to the other phone and they just transfer information and send stuff between them. How do they do that? It’s like magic!

    My old phone got to the point where it just wouldn’t send texts sometimes. (Maybe it knew I really shouldn’t send those texts, but still, it should do what it’s told) It just wouldn’t receive texts sometimes. I would get a notification that I got a text, but I couldn’t find it when I opened my text messages.

    There was also NEVER enough storage on my old phone so every time there was an update I have to delete everything. And still, there was not enough room for the update. Sometimes there was not enough storage for me to clock in on my work app. And don’t even get me started on pictures! There was never enough storage for me to take pictures.

    Sometimes I would delete and delete and delete a bunch of pictures I didn’t necessarily need (although I really wanted) and still there would be no room for me to take one picture. 

    “I just deleted 30 pictures!” I would say to Old Phone. “And you won’t even let me take one?”

    My phone said “no.” I get it. He was tired. I am too.

    I was at the vet’s office and they had the cutest little sign saying if your dog has anxiety, take this little bandana and lay it over her/him because it has been sprayed with something calming. (Well, the sign said it in a much more eloquent way. That’s why I wanted to take a picture!)

    I thought it was the cutest little sign, and I took one bandana and laid It over my dog. It had autumn leaves on it, and she looked so cute! I wanted to take a picture of the sign and take a picture of my dog to send to my family chat because I knew they would love it. But Old Phone said “no.”

    Even after I deleted so many things I just begged it for just one more picture and it said “no.”

    Also, the camera only worked in selfie mode. I’ve gotten pretty skilled though at taking every picture I need to take in selfie mode. I mean, doesn’t everyone just want my face in the corner of every picture I take? OK, probably NOT everyone.

    So I finally got a new phone, and I don’t know what the hype is about a new phone. I don’t know why people are so excited. It’s just a phone. It’s fine. It sends my texts. It receives my texts. It lets me take pictures. But really, I just miss Old Phone. My old phone was comfortable, well worn, and well loved, even with all his bad habits.

    Sometimes I think I want nice new things. The other morning, I was sitting on my couch looking around my house and I thought to myself that I really needed new baskets for the dog toys. This was after I woke up that morning and said to myself that I’m not going to buy anything unnecessary today.

    The current baskets are not even baskets! They are plastic bins the dog toys have been in for years. (and they have NEVER bothered me) They were bins that used to hold my kids’ toys when they were babies. These bins are over 15 years old. They don’t match and they are cracked down the side and cracked down the back. They are just not very pretty. Doesn’t my dog deserve better? For the toys she NEVER plays with. And besides, wouldn’t it just make my house look so pretty?

    So, I hopped on Amazon, and I bought my dog two new matching baskets for her toys. We have one in the front room and one in the back of the house. Honestly, she doesn’t even play with toys. It was the other dog that played with toys, but they are all still here.

    The new baskets are very pretty. They are woven baskets with a the cute little dog bone on them. 

    I was all excited when they came and I switched out the dog toys and showed them to my dog who didn’t care. She loves old well-loved things the best too.  After all, she loves me.  

    After three days of looking at them and how pretty they made my house look, I decided that I didn’t like the new dog toy baskets. 

    They were too nice and too new and too fancy. And the old ones reminded me of my kids when they were babies. They also reminded me of my old dog too who would often pull out all the toys.  And not clean them up.

    Good thing I hadn’t thrown the old bins out. I just threw them in the garage. I dug through the garage and found those old plastic broken bins and I returned those new dog baskets. It’s funny how you don’t really realize how much you love something sometimes. It is funny how they look perfect to me now.  Mismatched, well loved and all.

    It’s like that with people sometimes too. We get old and we get broken and we get worn out and we get boring. I hope no one will ever trade me in for something new and shiny. 

    That’s the thing though, we learn to love people just like we learn to love things. We love them with their faults, and with their broken parts. We love them because we know them so well, and even their annoying habits become endearing. We love them because they are not perfect. And neither are we.

    The world would be such a better place if we were happy with what we had instead of wanting something new and pretty, if we appreciated a little more our old well-loved things that brought us comfort, and if we were just happy with our old broken plastic dog toy bins.

  • My Biggest Fan

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    There are plenty who pretend to like my cooking. Well, not plenty, maybe one. My brother. I can’t really tell if he pretends to like it, or if he has no taste buds. Either way, there is only one who really likes my cooking. LOVES my cooking. My biggest fan. No matter what I’m making he sits right by me, tail wagging, drool dripping out of his mouth, encouraging me the whole way. I ask him, “Does this look right?” He wags his tail faster and drools harder in response. These are my babies helping me cook.

    My other dog likes my cooking too, but she will sniff it first, she will daintily lick it, she will chew it slowly. But my biggest fan, he’ll gobble it in one bite. I don’t even think he chews it. I don’t even think he smells it. He thinks it is THAT good. He is my biggest cheerleader, my ego booster, my garbage disposal. He is my biggest fan. But my biggest fan is gone. He died today and I think I might just have to give up cooking once and for all. No one will ever love my cooking like he did.

    He was the most disobedient dog you have ever met. He would not listen to a thing you said. With a name like Boss, what did we expect? Boss, go pee! Nothing! Boss, come here! Nothing! Boss, please stay on the dog sheet and off the pillow.  I would wake up the next morning to this…

    We would often tell him he’s not the boss, but he would just give us a look and say, “it’s my name”. He had no ears. They had been clipped lower than anyone had ever seen before. The joke was, he would do a little ear swipe, and say, “I have no ears. I can’t hear you,” with a little dog shrug. Some people might get frustrated with his lack of obedience and his bad listening skills, but we just accepted him for him. Boss the bad listener. That would make a great children’s book.

    He had hip and joint issues from abuse when he was little, and he was such a klutzy dog. He walked with a little limp and always had trouble with stairs and things like getting in the car. One time I built a little garden in the backyard and put chicken wire around. I was sure that it would keep him out of the garden. He couldn’t step over the chicken wire. The next day, though, there he is, inside my garden sleeping on the peppers. We got a bigger, more sturdy fence and put it around. I was sure he could not get over this one. Sure enough, the next day he is in my garden, sitting on my basil.

    My brother asked “is this when we get a bigger fence?” And I said, “no, this is when we give up and let Boss win. If he wants to be in the garden so badly that he will scale fences with his bad hips, we will let him. We are going to kill the plants anyway so now at least we can blame him.” I’m sure you’re not shocked, but the garden did not make it. Of course it was the dog’s fault. Wait – Is that terrible? Blaming a dog when he’ just died? I take it back. Killing gardens has always been my thing. I take full responsibility. He was probably helping by eating all the weeds. My little gardener. I can’t find a picture of him sitting in the garden but here he is helping us make it.


    He was the most beautiful dog ever. Everybody loved him. The sweet little neighbor girl would drop everything when she saw him. She would hop off her bike or her scooter, leave her toys and run to Boss. She would wrap her little body around him and kiss him all over his face. I can still hear her cute little voice saying, “Oh, I love you, Boss.” He would smile wide, loving all the attention.


    He loved everyone. He would walk right up to anyone and let them pet him. He would also get in any car! One time we were walking at this lake by our house and there was a car with the door open because the owner was loading kayaks. Boss jumped right into the open car before we could stop him. He sat down happily on the seat. “Well, I don’t mind if I do! I love car rides,” he said. The owner was shocked and not happy at all. We apologized profusely as we dragged him out of her car. “He is friendly,” we kept saying, like that makes a difference. This woman does not want a random pit-bull in her car even if he is friendly.

    Boss seemed confused. What?!? If you see an open door, take it! When the opportunity arises, jump on it. Or in, in this case. Wise Boss words to live by. I mean unless you are a kid. Don’t get into a stranger’s car if you are a kid. Or if you are an adult even. Ok, maybe not the best Boss advice at all.

    People would stop us on the street and comment on him. Much to the chagrin of our other dog, Leia, who always got ignored. She didn’t mind though. She was happy to give Boss the glory. Maybe she’ll write a book. It’ll be called Living in Boss’ shadow.

    Boss was a bully. A beautiful and sweet bully. He would steal Leia’s toys, treats, food right from her and she would happily let him. She would do anything for Boss. She loved him and he loved her. Even though he pretended he didn’t. He would eye roll at her excessive barking at every person, butterfly or bird that passed our house.

    When we first got Boss he would get up and run to Leia when she would bark out the front window.

    “What?!? What is it?!?? Is everything ok?!? Do you need my muscles?!?!” Boss would ask all worried but ready to save the day.

    “I saw a leaf!” Leia would respond, all proud of herself. Boss would sigh and go back to his spot on the couch. He learned quickly and when Leia would bark, he would lift his head, give me a look, roll his eyes, and go back to sleep. We left Leia to protect the house herself from squirrels, lizards and neighborhood children.

    Leia is not great with other dogs and we always tell her we never thought she’d have a friend. But she had a friend. A best friend. She had a Boss. I’m not sure how she’ll live without him. I’m not sure how any of us will.


    Car rides were his favorite things. He’s an old frail dog but if you said the words car ride he would run into things and knock them over like a bull in a China shop. Or a kid in a mosh pit. He was so excited. We all learned to brace ourselves. Leia especially ducked and moved out of his way. I learned this lesson the hard way when Boss accidentally headbutted me in his excitement and gave me a fat lip.

    He loved to stick his head out the window, his little lip flap flapping in the wind. A look of pure happiness on his face. Dog drool smudging up the car window. I will never wash the drool off my car window. We always said we wished the whole world could be as happy as Boss with his head out the car window. The world would be a much better place if people found joy in small things like sticking their heads out the window. Oh, and pup cups. That guy loved a pup cup.

    He helped me with dishes every night by licking each one clean. He was meticulous about doing the dishes. He takes his job very seriously. Such a big helper. If you like a clean dog slobbery plate. I secretly cleaned them after him when he wasn’t looking but please don’t tell him that. He loves being a helper.

    He would definitely let you know what he wanted. If there was pizza on top of the oven, he would sit right next to the oven, all tall and proud, looking up at the pizza and then back at me, and repeatedly humph until you noticed him. He’d make a little “humph” sound when he wanted your attention. He would do that with treats too. Sit right by the counter where the treats are and humph until you gave him one.

    He would communicate in an almost human-like way. While we sat and ate our dinner, he would lay on the floor and howl and whine and ask for food. It was a back-and-forth conversation. We would tell him that he must wait patiently, and then he would howl at us. We would tell him that we know he wants tacos, but he must wait until we finish ours, and then he would howl back at us. It was a little annoying but also hilarious and now we miss it. Dinners are too quiet. “Don’t eat it all,” he would say. “I just HAVE to have some.”

    At the end of the meals, we make a little plate for him and Leia. He would devour it in two minutes, give me a wink over his shoulder and say, “Delicious! You did it again, mom. You are the BEST cook ever.” And then he would go and eat Leia’s plate. And she would step aside and let him.

    I’ve never loved a dog like I loved Boss. They say there is no love greater than a child and their dog/pet. I disagree and think adult dog love is much stronger. Maybe because as adults we know how hard it is to find true unconditional love.

    Live your life like Boss. Forget the rules. Forget listening to others. Just do what makes you happy. Overcome obstacles to lay on peppers. Find the sunshine. Stick your head out the window every now and then. Humph until you get noticed. And get in a stranger’s car when the opportunity arises. Well, maybe not that one.