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September 27, 2000
a year ago
two years ago

Eating Wild Game

I didn't go into work until I absolutely had to. I was still feeling not too good, and so I slept in when John went into work early. I had a 10 o'clock meeting, so I had to get in by then. I woke up, showered, and let Fezzik in while I ate breakfast, so he got my cantaloupe rind along with a bunch of hugs and treats scattered all over the porch. He was finding them and eating them as I left. I don't think he ever leaves them for when he's bored, he just goes immediately to find them all and eat them all.

It was nice to have a little time with him in the morning, as there was the possibility we'd be late back as everyone was invited to a nice dinner at the Red Lion, a restaurant just up from Boulder along Canyon street that specialized in dishes prepared from game.

Work itself was slogging through some things that had to be done. Lunch was split pea soup and then more work. We left for dinner around 6. It was John, the three guys from France, Karen and I all going up the winding canyon drive. At this time of the evening the bike path alongside the road was filled with people and construction equipment as they were upgrading the whole thing. Karen noted that the equipment was scary when you were riding along as there was so much traffic, you could head-on with others easily.

The restaurant is styled after an old Bavarian Inne in the woods, with lots of rustic European decor, and dark wood everywhere. It was mildly dark interior and everyone else was dressed fairly well. We had a table to ourselves in a room without many other guests until later, and we had fun figuring out what to order. Hamad knew French wines and after consulting with John over how much could be spent, the two of them got a wine that actually awed the waiter. Everyone ordered a combination of game meats, as the waiter had said that most of the game dishes could be split, and I had caribou and wild boar tenderloin medallions. The boar was sweet, heady pork on caramlized apples, and the meat was lean and flavorful. The caribou was almost sheep-like in taste and very, very dark in color and was in a pool of reduction sauce that was fairly salty. There were vegetables and, oddly enough, there was corn on the cob mixed in, in one inch long chunks with the cob still on the corn.

While I was trying to cut the corn off the cob, the cob leapt under my arm and skittered across the floor. I laughed so hard I couldn't breath. It really relaxed the whole table about their table manners from then on.

I couldn't eat a whole dessert, but everyone other than I ordered something. The creme brulee Karen got was shallow and wide on a plate, almost, with plenty of fired sugar. John got an orange bread pudding that I got a few tastes of, along with some of the vanilla ice cream. The pudding was dense, creamy and had lots of fruit lumps in it and enough alcohol that I could taste the difference, so I didn't eat much of it.

By the time we were done, it was nearly nine, and we were all full, tired, and happy. So we all said our good-byes, and John and I took the bottle from the wine for the group's boss, as he's really into French wines and that one was a good one.

After we got home and settled to decompress and digest a little in front of the TV and the Olympics, Fezzik came over, after he'd eaten his dinner, to be petted, hugged, made much of for about half an hour. He just lay beside me, by the couch that John was in, while we watched TV, and nuzzled me everytime I stopped petting him. So I petted him and petted him and smoothed him and told him what a good dog he was. He was a bit uncomfortable with his swollen lymph nodes, so I avoided scritching his throat, and basically patted him and scritched him and stroked him and massaged him gently everywhere else. He burrowed in close for a bit, and just seemed to enjoy all the attention. Then half an hour after settling down by me he levered himself back up and wanted to go outside for the night, and so he did.

I'm very glad we're going to take him to the vet on Friday. He's slowing down and looking gradually more and more uncomfortable. The last chemo treatment helped him for nearly a week, so we'll see if they can come up with something else that might help him for longer. I hope they can.

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