I can't remember who gave us the hamsters, Brownie and Blackie (guess what color they were?), and the ten gallon tank that served as their home. My recollections are dim, censored, fraught with Freudian undertones.
The hamsters were two of a succession of pets that were deliberately not a puppy. We also had a bowl of neglected guppies, a neglected turtle, a neglected goldfish and a neglected parakeet. We did have a puppy once, for three days when I was five, and these other living creatures were brought in to make up for the failure of that experiment, becoming slightly more successful experiments in that they were unable to complain about their substandard care.
I don't blame my parents. They were both from farm country, where animals were either exploited or exterminated, and this pet business was part of the suburban milieu they did not understand. My grandmothers had dogs and cats the same way they had a field of corn and a watermelon patch. Granny's dog Duke was a savvy yard dog with goals that took him places. Like a traveling salesman, he carried unmet quotas in the winkles along his forehead and was gone for days at a time. Nannie had a series of dogs that were repeatedly squashed on the highway that ran along the front of the farmhouse. The last one was a Dalmatian named Hitler, a repulsive dog, aloof and menacing, reeking of the carcasses he'd rolled in, his fur thick with unknown viscera. No one grieved when he was run over by a semi headed north. (Recently, I found a news article that might explain why he was named Hitler.)
With the hamsters, my mother wasn't about to spend good money on a book about vermin, so the tragedy that played out behind the glass was as shocking to her as it was to us. Briefly, Brownie murdered Blackie. Afterward, Brownie deposited a pile of squirming pink jelly beans in the left-hand corner of the aquarium, which was apparently the designated "pantry" because she ate them all. Then she escaped prosecution through an unsecured aquarium lid.
I'd like to report that she recognized the error of her ways, went vegetarian and authored a book -- Jesus Took My Wheel: One Hamster's Journey from Cannibalism to Christ –but when we found her a day or so later, peacefully curled behind my brother's KISS trashcan, she appeared fatly unrepentant. We lost our taste for rodents after that.
While I have always been, in an off-hand way, an "animal lover," I assumed that with my family's history of petty crimes, the remorseless ease with which we flushed or buried their bodies and happily moved on to the next little victim, I lacked whatever it is that makes one a conscientious pet owner. Then I married and had my children. We had successfully nurtured two independent cats, and a dog seemed like the obvious next addition. So, without any forethought or research, we purchased Bill, an adolescent Brittany Spaniel, from a hunter who seemed suspiciously unsentimental about parting with him. Bill was beautiful and stupid. We were simply stupid. Our first ad offered Bill for sale at $100. The next ad we cut the price to $50. Then he was free. With a dog house, leash, collar, brush, supplies, food…please! Anybody!
A few years passed and we forgave ourselves (far too easily) for the Bill fiasco, and decided it was time to give dog ownership another try. So, without any forethought or research, we adopted Millie, a Smooth Fox Terrier, from a local shelter. Millie was not stupid; moreover, she recognized our stupidity and threw it in our faces in ways that only a clever dog can. I wasn't about to lose in a battle of wits with a dog and soon I was pouring over essays by Turid Rugaas, Patricia McConnell and Ian Dunbar. Within a year I had two dogs, and a pair of rubber boots printed with dogs that I wore for my volunteer shift at the shelter. Within two years I was running the adoption program, sitting on the shelter's board of directors and housebreaking whole litters of foster puppies. Three years in, I started a parent-child volunteer program, joined the executive board and adopted a third dog. By year four, I had a fourth dog, directions to all the dog parks within sixty miles and my friends and family were giving me dog-themed presents on every gift-giving occasion – "Because, you know, you're a dog person." I thought, Holy shit, I'm a dog person. How did that happen?
I know I'm not unique in this trajectory. One girl's night my friend Kendra and I were trading dog stories (our children were teens and no longer capable of cuteness) and our friend Mary Tom, a visiting professor at Chardonnay Tech, sloppily opined, "I don't get all this dog talk. I mean, I like dogs, but they belong outside. They aren't people, for heaven's sake!"
I swear it wasn't a month before she'd adopted a Puggle named Juno and the next girl's night she was downright obnoxious with the dog stories, like she couldn't talk about anything else. When she paused to take a breath and a swig of wine, I asked, "So, Mary Tom, when is Juno going to start sleeping outside where she belongs?"
She raised her middle finger in an affectionate gesture. She now has three dogs and rubber boots identical to mine.
Since my heart is actually larger – I can feel it tickling my ribs, covered in fur like everything else in my house -- I've even learned to love rodents. I cried when my daughter's rat, Rat, died four months ago. "Bring her home," I sobbed, while on the phone with my daughter. "We'll bury her in the front yard next to the cats."
And who would have guessed it? This turnaround. I should write a book: How I Learned to Heel: One Woman's Journey from Hamster Death to Puppy Breath. If it hits the bestseller list, I'll owe it all to Brownie.
Brownie Pie
I call this an "everyday pie." I made it often when my kids were small because it's no-fuss, one bowl, and calls for ingredients that are usually in the pantry. If you use a refrigerator pie crust, it's even easier. The recipe screams for add-ins – chocolate chips, nuts, candy pieces, etc. It's almost impossible to mess up, and if you bake it in a tart pan and top it with ganache, it's fancy enough for company. Serve warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. The pink jelly beans are optional, though I think they add grotesque charm.
1 9 inch pie crust, homemade or a refrigerated round
1 stick (½ cup) butter
1 cup sugar
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 cup all purpose flour
Optional ganache:
1/3 cup chocolate chips
¼ cup heavy cream, heated
1 tsp corn syrup
Preheat your oven to 325. Fit the pie crust into a 9 inch pie plate or into a 10 inch tart pan. Dimple the crust with your fingertips to prevent it from bubbling up and bake for 12-15 minutes. Let cool.
Mix together the melted butter, sugar, cocoa powder, vanilla, eggs and salt. Whisk until glossy, then whisk in the flour. Pour into the cooled shell and bake for 25-30 minutes, until the top of the filling is set and the top is no longer sticky.
If you're using the ganache, let the pie cool for about thirty minutes before making the ganache and pouring it over the top, otherwise it might sink into the pie filling. Then, heat the heavy cream and pour over the chocolate chips. Add the corn syrup. Stir until the mixture is smooth and slightly thickened. Pour/spread over the top of the pie.
TIP:
Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
LuminousMuse
Firechick
David Schiller
Gary Justis
Deborah Méndez-Wilson
Marcy Fisher
Salon.com
Comments
Yikes.. it reminded me after how she killed him she ran away in some pipe some never to be found again.
If I had money I too would have a pug, or a boston terrier or a frenchie.
Got to love those pushed in faces.:)
HUGGGGGGGG
~r
And what a best seller that would be, Bell! I'm waiting with baited breath.
R♥
So, I understand your starting attitude. Your recent ventures seems overwhelming to me, and I wonder if you can keep it up? Anyway, as ever, thanks for the stories and the recipes.
I love your segues, but this reach was a long one, a hysterically funny one - but a bit of a reach nonetheless. And gaaaaah on those pink baby beans! you are twisted in such a divine way dear.
(BTW, the last dog we had was up for The Dumbest Dog Alive, but the award sadly went to another when she dove head first under a loaded concrete truck after making an inexplicable turn-around from running toward my brother and safety, just as Dad pulled around the corner and down the hillside. What a scene. I think he dug a hole for her before he poured the concrete slab of our house that afternoon. We never saw any evidence of a grave and her name was never mentioned again...)
I'd like to see one of those book titles out soon.
Lezlie
Lamm -- You're a visiting professor from Chardonnay Tech too? We have another girl's night this Friday. You're welcome to join in.
greenheron -- I was certainly surprised by how people-friendly rats are. Far different from hamsters. Rat was a great rat, and I miss her. One day, when I don't have as many dogs, I'll adopt a rat of my own and we'll share Cheezits.
Darla -- If you know a teen capable of cuteness, I'd love to meet him or her! Those years are ugly in so many ways.
Matt -- Er, no. I think the visual is enough!
Linda -- It is a classic pie. So easy. I think everyone who has ever owned a gerbil or a hamster or a mouse has an escape story.They always end badly.
jlsathre -- I know there's not much of an actual tie-in, but, well, pie is always an appropriate ending, even if it comes out of nowhere.
Chicken -- Hitchens, I fear, would rip it to shreds for the obvious yuk yuk pandering. I admire subtle humor but can't seem to accomplish it very often.
Susie -- Sorry about your hamster. That's a sad way to go. I think lots of people run the gamut of pets before the give into a cat or a dog. But really, a cat is a lot less trouble than a bird or a rodent. Or I think so. I much preferred scooping a litter box to dismantling and cleaning a rodent cage.
Joan -- Never!
Fusun -- I'll get to work right away.
Christine -- Aww. Thanks.
Sarah -- What you don't know is when I made the pie, I was hasty with the ganache and it splashed onto the sides of the crust and was too sloppy looking for pretty pictures. So I had to make it again. Now I have TWO PIES.
dianaani -- I volunteered at the initial shelter (a high-kill county animal control facility) for a little over six years and while it was rewarding, it was also demoralizing and overwhelming. I hope I can regroup and go back one day.
Alysa -- I'm a cat person too. One of the bad things about having a "pack" of dogs is that it's difficult to introduce another species. My ideal pet combination is two dogs, one cat, one rat and a goldfish (because they are lucky).
Blue -- I've known some really smart Brittany Spaniels. Bill just wasn't one of them. But we were no prize as owners back then either! My parents still don't GET my dogs...in the house.
Gabby -- Hey now, don't be a hater! Just cause you can't stretch that far! ;)
ccdarling -- It takes time to ready yourself for another pet after you've lost one. If you aren't ready or are only partly ready, you could foster for a rescue group. I really miss fostering puppies (my house it at maximum canine capacity). I'd get my fill of puppy breath and adorableness and practice my dog training techniques and then, just when I was getting really tired of it, it was time to find them new families. I've also fostered adult dogs and that was great too, when you can get them ready for a forever home.
Lezlie -- I do play harmonica. Once you have that skill, prison seems inevitable.
We are currently owned by a neurotic dog with PTSD from his childhood in a shelter, and a homeless boa constrictor (long story). My daughter is begging for a rat, a hamster, or a mouse.
And absolutely rated for Jesus Took My Wheel. You owe me a keyboard because mine is covered with tea.
I noticed that your recipe optimistically left out the ever-present pet fur.
Rated Highly
Pink jellybeans & what they resemble - ew.
I've been a dog person since I was 5 and my mom referred to our new puppy as my sister. I'd like to see some pics of your pooches!
Maybe the circus comparison is too garish, because what you do is subtle. You take the ordinary, make it recognizable, then find something that no one ever expects to find there. Often the result is the sort of laughter that's bred of insight, as with this post, but at other times, you've moved me to tears.
I don't know how you do it, but I'm glad you do. Like brownie pie, your posts are delicious.
BTW, a writer friend almost sold a dog book a few years ago; her agent told her "Dog books sell." I don't know if that's still true. Might be worth checking into.
Or you can just keep writing here and we'll keep enjoying.