Koda is spoiled

Koda is so spoiled. I know what you are thinking. We know Koda is spoiled. We have seen you with her. The other day, I took it to a new level.

I roasted. Koda. An entire chicken.

Yes.

Now how crazy do you think I am?

It’s a good thing that Dan socializes me or I could become that lady who spends her days in the kitchen cooking for her 35 cats, bowls and cat hair everywhere. Except not cats. Dogs. I don’t like cats. I pretend I am allergic so I don’t have to touch them.

I mean. I am allergic.

I’m not that crazy. And technically it was Dan’s idea. Whether it was a joke or not, the thought didn’t cross my mind.

I thawed a whole chicken in the fridge to roast for dinner one night. Three days later, I went to put it in the oven and noticed that it was still frozen. Back in the fridge it went – and I improvised for dinner, with Dan and my combined body weight in chili. Fast forward a couple days and I had forgotten about the chicken.

I am sure it would have been fine, but I knew that I would think about it with each bite and not be able to eat it. As I was pouting and throwing the chicken away, Dan said “cook it for Koda?”

Brilliant.

A few hours later – a whole roasted chicken – fat and skin removed – and we had an entire tupperware of food for her dinners.

Spoiled. Rotten.