Memory Monday: You're Toast

Every morning I would walk to the bus stop with the girls on my street.  And every morning Jill's mom would send her with a piece of toast to eat while she walked to the bus stop.  If I remember correctly, this toast was made out of what I refer to as "surprise bread."  You know the kind that has every imaginable whole grain and seed stuffed into it that you never know exactly what you're eating in each bite?

Jill wasn't a big fan of this toast, but the neighbor's dog was.  Eddie was a big black lab that had a little extra around the waistline, as a lot of labradors tend to get.  He followed us to the bus stop every day, and every morning as we'd turn the corner out of view from Jill's house, Jill would hand her toast over to the pooch and he would munch away happily.  Sometimes he didn't even finish the trip to the bus stop with us, he would just stop and eat his handout.  

Apparently he got tired of it too though, because one morning instead of eating the toast, he carried it back to Jill's house and left it on her front porch.  Maybe he was trying to make a request for something different.  Jill's mom noticed the dog and the toast on the porch though and quickly connected the dots.  Jill never carried toast with her to the bus stop again.