Eating the dog food

When we were little my sister and parents and I lived in central Georgia, where my dad worked for the Air Force. We had a Boxer named Bo, who lived tied up out back, though we let him into the house quite a bit. My dad fed Bo every night, carrying the dog's meal down to him in a big plastic pail, and my dad really enjoyed creating a big dinner in the pail--he'd stir in crunchy dog food, table scraps, a cup or so of warm water, and any meat drippings that were handy. He'd also put some sort of vegetable on top more or less as an experiment, and the dog rarely failed to leave whatever it was--tomato wedge, lettuce leaf, a few ripe olives--sitting alone and clean in the bottom of the food pail. Once as a treat for Bo my dad bought these multicolored doggie doughnuts, and they looked and smelled pretty good, so my sister and I ate some, and they weren't bad. That led us to try out all the other dog food, and it was truly awful.

Very first post

My sister and I were in Bar Harbor one day--this was probably in the early 90s, post-college but before either of us were married or even behaving consistently like adults--and I bought a fancy ice-cream cone, one where much of the waffle thing has been dipped in dark chocolate. It was really good, and when it came time to bite the cone part, a large chunk fell off, landed on the sidewalk, and fell on the asphalt of the street. I quickly picked it up, blew on it, and ate it. My sister was mildly horrified. "A lot of people would call the spot where that chocolate landed 'the gutter,'" she pointed out. This was across the street from the old Red & White grocery store, across the street from Epi Sub.