Of dogs and food

I was walking down the bike path yesterday to go into town. I passed by a golden retriever and his owner. I know it was a male because the man said "C'mon boy" as the dog paused to watch me walk by. The dog gazed at me plaintiffly, hungrily, and I became conscious of the way I smell. I didn't put deodorant on as I got dressed, and I had just eaten macaroni and cheese for lunch; I probably reeked of butter and Kraft "cheese" (it was more orange than yellow and had a abandoned-blob-of-Play-Doh consistency).

I felt like I got a glimpse of my imaginary/parallel future, wherein I live in a tiny apartment by myself and, following a bout of passion for cooking new and pungent dish, I get thoroughly sniffed by the dogs that pass by, who cannot help themselves to the powerful olfactory feast I eek out my every pore.