Pizza Gods

Duke has been trying my nerves lately. Maybe that's why I enjoyed this post. It helped me remember why I (still) like dogs.

Exploiting the animal openness to magical beliefs, I once converted a dog to a belief in the Pizza God.

I don’t feed dogs at the table. It trains them to beg. But once upon a time I had a beagle-lab mix and a tiny kitchen. The dining table was about four feet from the dog dish. One fine pizza night, I found myself with a pizza bone — the crust — in my hand, and the devil on my shoulder.

I waited until the dog wasn’t looking, and tossed that bone high, high, so that it came down from the ceiling into his bowl. Dogs do seem to understand trajectories, so I made an effort to disguise the origin of that arc.

Read on,

Hannah Holmes is an author who I heard on MPR last summer. I’ve been following her blog since. (See my earlier Freedom Lawn post.)