Daisy's Dinner

        His hand shook slightly as he reached up onto the shelf for the pot. It sat on the same shelf for the last thirteen years; the whole time Daisy had been living with him. This old pot, with its missing paint and one broken handle had cooked their dinners every single night. The food may have varied some, but the vessel remained the same. He filled the pot with water and placed it on the stove to boil.

              Chop, chop chop. His knife cut through the chicken breasts with ease. He trimmed off the fat and pieces of gristle because he knew she struggled to chew some things. The scraps he fed to the cat, who was patiently sitting by his feet waiting for his share. He set the chicken aside and went to work on the vegetables.

              Tonight, he chose to add in some carrots and peas since those were Daisy’s favorites. He also diced up some beef liver as a little treat to add to her food and put the two scoops of rice in the pot now that the water had come to a boil. He reduced the heat and put a cover on the pot after adding the peas and carrots so they would cook with the rice.

              Daisy was an old beagle who was given to him when his wife Violet passed away. His kids had thought he needed some company, and apparently a puppy was just the ticket. He was not excited. A puppy meant work, and it was the last thing he wanted to do now that he was alone. Slowly but surely, the sweet little brown-eyed puppy worked her way into his heart, and now they were inseparable.

              When Violet was alive, he used to love to cook for her. She would find her recipes in her magazines and church cookbooks and buy the groceries and he would prepare the meals. Back in his younger years, he had been a cook for a naval ship in the war, and it instilled in him a love of food. He could make a meal out of anything, which was good because Violet could not cook to save her soul. She always used to joke that if it weren’t for him, she would have shriveled up and blown away in the wind a long time ago.

              Eventually, cancer had taken her from him and now it was slowly taking Daisy away from him as well. Her appetite had slowed significantly, and she had been losing weight steadily, but she would still greet him every morning with a wagging tail and a sloppy kiss on the face. She sat with him while he had his morning coffee and enjoyed the sunrise and got her own plate of eggs and toast when it was breakfast time.

              He knew her time was coming, so he did his best to make her all the foods he knew she loved. She enjoyed steak and would never pass on a hot dog, but her true love was chicken and rice. The added peas and carrots would just be the cherry on top. 

              He brought out a frying pan and put the chicken in to cook. As he cooked, the smell drew Daisy from her bed and into the kitchen, where she laid in the doorway to supervise as she always did. He threw her a chunk and she licked it up, slowly wagging her tail. He patted her on the head and returned to his cooking.

              He checked the rice, which was now perfectly cooked. He added the chicken and beef liver and put the food in a bowl with some chicken broth to cool off a little before he gave Daisy her dinner. The cat meowed to remind him that he needed to be fed, so he opened a can of tuna and placed it on the counter. He scratched the cat behind his ears and it earned him a purr and a soft lick on the hand.

              His dinner took no time to heat up; a piece of leftover lasagna from last night when his daughter and her family came by to visit. Once his was ready to go, he grabbed Daisy’s bowl and his plate and walked to the dining room where she was sitting patiently waiting for her dinner. He placed her bowl on the floor next to his chair and she sat and waited for him to say his prayer. Once the prayer was complete, they both dug in.

              Daisy finished her dinner first, so she licked her bowl clean and waited patiently for him to finish his. Once he was done, he put his plate on the floor for her to lick clean as well. While he did dishes and cleaned up, Daisy laid on the floor in front of the heater vent, snoring lightly. After a quick clean up, he grabbed a mug and made some hot chocolate.

              They were done with dinner just in time. He called for Daisy, and she followed him out onto the porch, where she had her old dog bed sitting next to his rocking chair. He sat down and got settled in to watch the sun go down with his girl. Once upon a time, this is the same thing he would do with Violet every night after dinner. He would make them both a mug of chocolate and they would sit out here, holding hands and sitting in silence to watch the sunset.

              Now it was just him and Daisy, which he didn’t mind. She was excellent company. The cat came out and hopped up on the porch railing, content to sit and watch the birds at the feeders. The three of them sat in silence, soaking up the last few rays of sunshine the sun had to offer. He sipped on his hot chocolate slowly, savoring the taste.

              He was not sure how many more of these nights he would get with Daisy, or what he would do when she was no longer here. The thought saddened him too much to really think about. His daughter suggested getting another puppy, but he knew it would be too hard on Daisy to bring a youngster into the equation, so he turned her offer down. He wanted her last days to be calm and relaxing, just the two of them.

              As long as she was still here, he would continue to make her eggs and toast for breakfast. He would continue to take her to town with him in the truck, even though she slobbered all over everything and put nose prints all over his window. She would continue to get her treat from the bank ladies every Friday, and she would continue to play fetch with his grandkids. For the rest of her days, she would continue to get her dinner in her special bowl cooked in that special pot.

              Until the end, she would know nothing but love and chicken with rice.