Caramel Sundae and Sweet Potato Pie

Have I decided to write about desserts in this blog? No, actually, these are desserts that remind me of my pets—Dakota is the color of a caramel sundae and Singer the color of sweet potato pie. The latter choice is really from my vet, who called Singer “Sweet Potato Pie” yesterday when she went in for her annual exam. So, thanks Dr. Pam!

Dakota is a rich creamy tan color, topped with fudge sauce for his ears. The tan fur seems to melt into his vanilla fur and he is so soft and creamy looking, you just know if he were ice cream he would taste buttery sweet! But then if his fur does get into your mouth, the image explodes. More like bits of cigarette tobacco—yuck! His sharp claws dig into your thighs like needles when he braces himself for a leap down off your lap. Yeow! He’ll look back at you with his owlish crystal blue eyes and blink once or twice. I wonder what he is thinking? Does he want something from me? That stare never ceases to lure me into his private world of cool assessment, calm confidence.  I am suddenly in the middle of a forest, surrounded by thick trees while Dakota sits in a circle of light. I want to be in his good graces. Like a woman desperate for her lover’s approval, I will go where he leads. To his dish or outside on the deck, it’s usually one or the other.

My son has decided that Dakota is really an accounts manager who is rich. He has figured out ways to finagle money out of the biggest corporations and is now fabulously rich, all due to his ingenuous ways of funneling money into secret accounts. Of course, it’s all legal, just very, very secret. And no one suspects a thing, especially when they see him. How could such a pretty kitty do anything illegal? Perfect cover.

Singer’s bronze coat matches the brown sugary sweet potato filling and the flaky crust provides the accent of salt and crumbly fat that melts in your mouth. Come on in and sit down for awhile, enjoy a cup of coffee, put your feet up. Yum, just looking at her you see how perfect the analogy is. There’s something inherently old fashioned about her, and I would venture for all Irish setters. They have gingham in their souls, and the smells of baking pies from Grandma’s kitchen waft over their top form. They are the American classic car--not the clunky Chevrolet, but the 1950s Pontiac with sleek chrome tail lights. So anachronistic in today’s canine world. Where have all the Irish setters gone? The slant of their eyes twist your heart just a tiny bit, and you can lose yourself in the shine of the bronze coat. But the smell of brown sugar and sweet potatoes keeps you grounded in the past and present all at the same time.