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This evening, Rada decided she was a wise old dog named Shadow. I poured her a bowl of water which she messily lapped up from the kitchen floor. Then I set out a bowl of ‘dog food’ (actually dried apricots) which she knelt before and happily dug in.

After that, she decided she wanted to lick the floor to clean it, like any good dog. I quickly stopped her, explaining I didn’t want her tummy to get sick from the germs. Turning to the fridge door, she said”OK, I’ll lick this instead”. But I had to stop her, since the fridge door had not been cleaned since, um, the previous millennium. Then she said, “OK, I’ll lick the folding chairs by the table.” But I had to stop her from that for the same reason.

I offered plates and pans, but they weren’t what she wanted. Frustration finally overtaking her, ‘Shadow’ collapsed in the middle of the kitchen floor, sobbing uncontrollably, looking at me with intense betrayal and anger because, horrid mother that I am, I had been unable to provide her with furniture or a part of the house to lick.

Realizing that there was nothing I could do (short of a purgative cleaning which was unlikely to happen in my lifetime, let alone hers) I told her to snap out of it, stop being ridiculous and would she like to listen to her Chitty Chitty Bang Bang CD. She nodded yes. Sniffling, ‘Shadow’ sat down and started to eat dinner.

Ten minutes later she’d forgotten about it. I write these things because they are so implausible. Who knew that I would have ‘Shadow’ the dog in my kitchen this evening?