I was at the store and they had large pork roasts on sale...I bought one.  Never again.  What was I thinking?  About all I can handle is a small pork chop.  I must have had a moment of thinking I was cooking for six people again.  

Six people are long gone.  It’s just me, and I have cooked my last pork roast.  Period. 

I took the bones out to the trash and--within a minute--when I got back in the house, Molly had hopped on my chair, hopped on the counter and run off with a huge chunk of meat.  She is a survivor.  Pat found her in the middle of the road in the middle of nowhere and she was skin and bones.  She hasn’t realized yet that three meals a day are going to be her future from now on.

I’m going to have to be more careful about leaving temptation on the kitchen counter.  She isn’t a thief, she just knows how to take care of herself.  I have fallen in love with her, but there are some things we are going to have to work on.