By Lynna Clark

David opened the can and put it on the seat between us. His reward for going grocery shopping was a tiny splurge on cashews. We headed home when suddenly a little dog ran out into the road. David hit the brakes and screeched to a stop. Someone’s pet was spared that day, but the cashews slid forward and dumped head first, scattering across the floorboard. He looked at me and said, “Next time the dog dies.”

It’s like dropping toast. It will always land butter side down. I heard that if one were to strap buttered bread to the back of a cat they would spin indefinitely because cats always land on their feet. Could this perhaps be a source of alternative energy?

Why not? Who would’ve thought we’d use left-over French fry oil for fuel? Maybe someone should try buttered cats.

My apologies to animal lovers everywhere. I’ve just confessed that my husband loves cashews more than dogs and I would butter a cat to propel an engine if it would save me a buck.

Sorry.

Have you noticed when watching a movie like Quigley Down Under [which is one of my favorites] that the disclaimer at the end says “No animals were harmed in the making of this movie.” Never mind the poor guy being dragged behind the horse… or the Aborigines being pushed off the cliff. Just so you know the horse is okay.

I may sound mean and uncaring about animals, but I’ve been known to set a dish of milk out for a stray kitty meowing at my back door.

I wonder if she’d like a piece of buttered toast to go with that.