Today, I was preparing an old world recipe my parents brought with them from Romania as they arrived in this land of streets paved in gold.
It is called shalutta or puttajella. I do not know which of these words are Jewish or Romanian. Nor do I care to find out. Let the mystery be.
As I was grinding the baked eggplants, peppers and onions in my mixer, Frankie began meowing her pretty head off and would not stop. She had her agenda all mapped out.
The agenda: "Give me some playtime. I'm getting bored watching you prepare food for your personal enjoyment. For me, all you do is open some can."
She would run from the kitchen to the string I had tied to a yardstick, it would swing before her face and with toothless mouth, she'd try to grab it and hold it between her clawless paws.
Stopping the preparation I was making, I took the yardstick and began waving the string in front of her face. Frankie was happy with the sport. No longer bored.
Remember, in cat years, 4x7, she's about 28, still full of vim and vigour. Her Mr. Mom, me, I'm nearly 60 years older in human years than her cat years of 28. I was tuckered out after playing with her for about 10 or 15 minutes.
I went back to finishing my eggplant preparation. Frankie went back to meowing her pretty head off. Again I yelled at her, "Frankie, no."
She went to her dish after being rebutted by me and ate some of the chicken and disappeared from view.
After finishing my recipe and cleaning up, I found her sound asleep on one of her favourite resting places.
Our mutual love knows no bounds. Frankie had her fun. I had this delicious Romanian dish, who could ask for more?