Daddy is a Softie


It’s after the holidays, and Daddy is taking a break from packing lights from the Christmas tree. Mommy is catching up with housework since Stephen went back to college. She had a lot of cleaning up to do! Luckily she left her computer in the library so I could sneak in a post.

You may not know this, but my daddy is a softie. Oh yes, some may think he has a rough exterior, because he doesn’t say much, but I get him. He’s a sucker for big eyes. So when he was taking a break and eating some pretzel rods, I knew it was my moment.

I sat in front of him, not too close while he chomped on a pretzel. He ignored me as he watched a show. I sat all prim and proper, good posture, my tail curled cutely to the side. And then I stared. And I stared. And I stared.

OK. Nothing happened, but no one has ever said that Zoena Maria Cucina was a quitter!


I inched a little closer and opened my eyes a bit more to give him that “Oh poor me” look. “I’m so hungry and destitute!”

I can be patient. It’s in my DNA. I watch birds for hours, silently waiting for them to get closer and closer. I lull them into a false sense of security and then I pounce! But I can’t do that with Daddy. He’s not prey of course! Just the pretzel in his hand. I’m such a good girl! Notice me!


Suddenly he does! I wag my tail and shift a little closer. Daddy has the pretzel held out to me. I think he wants me to take it. I come close enough so that I could take it right from him. I latch on, he looks at me, smiles, and then lets go.

Yes! The pretzel is mine!


I could have stayed there all day, but in reality Daddy is such a softie with all the gals in his life that this was a piece of cake (or should I say pretzel!)