Just then Gravy, my Frenchie, skittered into the kitch…break room. She turned to me expectantly, her short, curled tail wagging side to side excitedly, just a touch slower than the speed of sound.

“I ate it,” she answered matter of factly.

Not recognizing my impending rage storm (or ‘passion’ as my wife fondly refers to it) from the bright red color spreading across my face she continued obliviously, “Whatcha getting? Can I have somes?”

“You ate my friggamunkin samm…” I start, but she cuts me off.

“I’m hungry.”

She smiled and looked up at me innocently then panted a couple times for emphasis.

“You’re always hungry,” I retorted.

“Whatcha getting?” she repeated, her innocent smile now accentuated by her tongue, which hung out the side of her mouth. She quietly anticipated my answer.

“Well,” I began and cleared my throat with great drama…err…passion, “I was gonna have a sammich…”

“Oh. I ate that,” she interrupted again unironically.

I sighed and pulled a plate out of the cupboard to fix a new sammich.

“What’s that?” she asked. Pretty sure she’s asked me that same question every day for two and a half years, yet there she sat, panting, excitedly awaiting my reply.

“It’s…a…plate..” I answered…patiently.

“Does plate taste good?” 

“Everything tastes good to you, Gravy!” I restrained my passion mightily behind gritted teeth.

“Everything?” she asked, now bouncing up and down on all four legs, her stubby curled tail veritably vibrating.

“Can I have some everything?”

“Is there anything you haven’t eaten, Gravy?”

“No, I haven’t eaten some anything, can I have some anything?” My fault. I should have expected that. Gravy does not understand rhetorical.

I sighed. “Yes, Gravy, you can have some anything.”

I fixed my sammich while Gravy stood on her hind legs extending her front paws as far up the edge of the counter she could reach and strained to see what goodies I was piling on.

“Put some everything on it! Put some everything on it!” she bounced up and down panting excitedly, “and some anything! Lots and lots and lots of anything!”

I finished my sammich, threw a few kibbles of dog food in my pocket and headed to the living room, uhh, lunchroom and settled in. Gravy sat under the table between my knees, looked up at me and licked her lips. I couldn’t see it but I’m quite sure her stubby little tail was wagging furiously.

I slipped a kibble of dog chow out of my pocket and offered it to her. She eagerly ate her anything, her open mouth happily crunching away as if it were the best anything in the world.

“OMG! Anything is sooooo good!” she shrieked. “Can I have some everything? Can I? Can I? Pleeeease!”

Sure Gravy. I slipped her another kibble.

Author: Ken Gack

Ken went to the fridge to grab a beer…uhh…pop and when he came back to the lunch room, his everything sammich had mysteriously vanished.