Powdered frosting from the mini-wheats. Broken Honey-Nut O’s. Lost flakes of crisped rice. Odd bits of granola.
We have plastic containers to store our cereal (mostly store brand because I’m kinda cheap like that). The bins are nice because our teen isn’t great at re-sealing opened bags. This leaves the cereal stale and tempting for mice looking for a meal.
My kids aren’t big fans of the plastic containers though. They like to scoop the top of the cereal out because otherwise they might get some of the crumbs. What that means for me is that when the cereal supply is low, the crumbs are all that are left.
My boys leave the cereal drawer for more enticing options. Baked oatmeal. Scrambled eggs. Yogurt parfaits.
But I feel the need to finish the cereal, so my breakfast is often a hodgepodge of miscellany. A loose marshmallow moon and some Rice Chex. It’s always a little bit of surprise. As long as the bits don’t get too small, it can be an interesting collection of flavors and textures. The tiny dust-like motes of cereal can become a little glue-like. Even I have to draw the line somewhere.
It was over this mishmash of a morning meal, that our old dog hobbled into the room. She’s fading fast.
A quick whispered convesation with my wife:
“Do you think she’ll make it to Tuesday?”
“I don’t know. Two weeks ago I didn’t think she’d make it through the night.”
“She’s not really eating. Barely drinking. She’s wasting away no matter what we try to tempt her with.”
We don’t have long. We’ll have to make a choice about when we put her to sleep. But neither of us wants to make the decision. It’d be nice if we didn’t have to decide, but we also don’t want her to suffer. It’s by far the worst thing about having a pet.
That’s why I’m writing about cereal today. I’m not ready to process this decision. Be well, friend.