Hanna and the roast beastApril 24, 2011
I returned home from Grandma Beanie’s house a little while ago. Aunt Linda, Uncle Tom, Michael, Mary Kay, Brother Bernie and Grandma Beanie were all there and asked about you. I hope your Easter has gone well.
Michael has a new Australian cattle dog he named Agro. He’s a cute little thing, seven months old, and smart! With a puppy running around tonight, the discussion turned to other pets our family has had over the years, and one secret that Aunt Linda and I kept for a very long time.
Grandma Beanie and Grandpa John took a trip to Hawaii when Uncle Dave was still in high school and asked Aunt Linda and I to keep an eye on things. Grandpa Frank and I stayed at the house with Dave, and Linda came and went during the week. I had been married less than a year and missed home a little, so it was nice to be back there and spending so much time with Linda. We planned a dinner for Saturday, our last day of house sitting.
The table was set, salad and potatoes were prepared and a beautiful beef roast sat on a platter. Linda and I sat outside in the back yard while waiting for Grandpa Frank to arrive from work for his dinner break. It was a beautiful evening. When Frank drove up we headed inside to get things started.
Inside, we found Linda’s dog, Hanna, standing on the kitchen table. We were never certain how she got up there. The chairs were all pushed into the table and she couldn’t have jumped up there, being a seven pound dachshund. Her legs were too short. But there she was, standing on the kitchen table, enjoying part of our roast while Grandpa Frank was coming up the walk to the side door.
Linda and I looked at each other. She grabbed Hanna and put her on the floor. We both grabbed a knife and sliced up the roast so it didn’t look like it had been disturbed by a naughty canine. Linda and I had no problem sharing part of the roast with Hanna, and gave her the part of the roast that had her little teeth marks in it.
We both knew that certain things would upset Grandpa Frank. One of those things was dinner not being ready when he walked in the door, so we sat down to have dinner and he joined us. He remarked many times throughout the meal that the roast was perfect. Linda and I bit our tongues and held our snickers. When he left the house to go back to work, we both fell into gut shaking gales of laughter.
I never did find the courage to tell him what later became a story told behind hands at family gatherings. I think at some point he knew that Linda and I fed him a beef roast that Hanna had tasted. He must have known. I think. But just in case, shhhhhh.