Cheese Whiz

I had a rare opportunity to meet my partner for lunch today, our call volume was low so we went to a local Italian place for their lunch special: amazing house salad for two, we split a small pizza with white garlic sauce, broccoli, spinach, tomato and basil. They grill the broccoli so it has a nice crunch but still a fresh mouth feel and taste, and their mozzarella is perfectly applied so it doesn’t overwhelm the white sauce or make the pie too messy to eat.  I chose my first slice, brought it from the pan to my plate, delicately cut off the front triangle into a perfect bite-size, and dropped it onto the toe of my left boot.

In the world we all grew up and live in now, the 5-second rule applies. With panther quick reflexes I reached under the table and made a grab for what every red-blooded American and Italian knows is the best part of a pizza. And then I paused.

In my rescue truck, I have a number of different types of cleaning solutions. I’ve got a large squirt bottle filled with Triple-2, which is a pretty common veterinary disinfectant, good for almost everything. I also maintain another squirt bottle of frequently refreshed 20% bleach solution for the rare instances where I suspect Parvo may be in play. I’ve got isopropyl alcohol, Lysol, alcohol free hand sanitizer, Purell, and a fat plastic jar of Clorox wipes. I’m set.

Except that about an hour earlier the sweetest little 6-month old boxer-pit puppy whizzed on the toe of my left boot. This girl is the twin to her brother, both whelps from their mother and an unknown father, part of a case I worked where the owner finally woke up and relinquished them all to my shelter to find them all new, healthy families. They had been in a house with too many people, too many animals, too many drugs, not nearly enough food or health care or cleanliness for any of them in the long term, people included. (Also there were like 9 unlawfully kept chickens.)

With a clean napkin I collected the cheese and crust and broccoli and tomato and basil off my boot, thought about it, but ended up just eating the rest of my half of the pizza. I’m still bitter about not eating that front triangle from the first slice. I think my partner thinks I’m a wussy though.