As I sat here eating my delicious lunch of grilled cheese and tomato soup, Mir brought me the gift of a mouthful of dog food. He left it on the floor next to me, and brought another. After depositing it in the pile, he looked at me with hopeful eyes and perked ears. That’s when it dawned on me, he was bartering a trade for what was on my plate. He would look at my food, look at my face, then look at the pile on the floor. I told him that I don’t eat dog food.
And then I fixed him is own grilled cheese, which he shared with his daughter Sara.
Nah, not spoiled.