Oh Zeus
Yesterday, work sent us to see a movie. I'm not quite sure why but when given the chance to go to the movies or work, especially during my last week before maternity leave, well, what would you do?

So I went, and afterwards worked from home. Parked in our fabulous glider, propped up with a pillow, using a TV tray as a desk, it wasn't so bad, really. That TV tray isn't too much smaller than the desk I have at work these days (no, really). I was munching happily on a steady stream of snack items (including the Pashka that my mom had shipped to us last week (apparently Pashka is prepared by women only: "The master of the house was not permitted to take part of preparing the “paska”, otherwise his moustache would go grey and the dough would fail.") Most years, mom has only sent a 1/2 of one since that's all we needed, even though it's absolutely the Best Bread Ever. But this year, I'm more than halfway done with this one and have requested another. What can I say? The baby needs to know about her Polish heritage! (I will not, at this time, discuss the many excellent Pashkas my grandma made over the years or the love of kielbasa that she so kindly passed on to me, I will only remain forever grateful for the memories and the appreciation for fine meats.)

Anyway, there I was, minding my own business, snacking like a good pregnant girl. Three out of the four dogs were being very nice but Zeus, oh Zeus. That boy wanted my pashka SO BAD, he was sitting at my side, quietly whining, tippity-tapping, then whining some more. I looked at him earnestly and said 'hey pal, if you don't cut that out, you'll need to go in a crate.' I know you're shocked, it didn't work. So I put him in a crate.

When he was younger, and less deaf, he'd quickly get what the deal was about being in a crate and give himself a pack of Shut The Hell Up gum. But like the days of pashka at Grandma's house, those days are gone and our man barked his incessant seal bark until I let him out.

Just in time for him to sit, whine, and hippity hop at my side until Joe Trash came by looking for a check for all his work. I stood on the porch talking to him and when I returned, it took me a second to notice that the BRAND NEW BAG of goldfish I'd moved onto were gone.

Fuck. In the backyard were Zeus and Rainie and not a single goldfish. I think it took them less than 5 minutes to eat most of a bag.

I brought them both back inside and this time, when Zeus went on doggie time-out, he knew he'd been bad and was quiet. Of course, he also had a very full belly.

Hard to believe that a year ago, that guy was fighting for his life. Now he's doing what he's supposed to -- fighting for goldfish. But the pashka? That's all mine, pal.