Our dog enjoyed watching us children hunting Easter eggs: she relished everyone’s attention being focused on the eggs. As we hunted, she would disappear from the living room, only to be given away by the clink and tinkle of her dog tags that added percussive emphasis to the soft beat of her paws heading to the family room.
All of our heads would jerk up at the realization that the dog had, once again, made off with the Easter dinner. We stampeded toward the family room, and there was our dear dog, her face more Cujo’s than a poodle’s, tearing into the Polish ham.
Thus did our dog proclaim preference for her adopted Polish heritage over her French poodle one.