Luck of the Dog

So, we’re in the kitchen and Susy picks up the wishbone from the chicken we had the other night. “Right, we’ve had a shitty year, let’s wish for something.”
“OK, I’m up for it.”
Our little dog wanders in and sits down to watch.
She holds the bone in the air between us, pinky curled around one leg of it. “Thing is, it doesn’t matter who wins, ‘cause we always wish for the same things anyway.”
“Really?” I say. “Well, If we’re both gonna wish for a blowjob and a sandwich, we can dispense with the chicken bone.”
She smacked me in the shoulder.
I pinky grasped the other leg of the bone.
She sighs. “I’m going to wish for something nice.”
I start the countdown. “Three, two, one…”
“Pull!”
Now, Susy’s competitive, much more so than I, so she yanks on her side of the bone. Whereas, I’m the immovable object in the room.
The bone snaps.
I’m left holding a shard, she’s got a shard and the bit in the middle – the deciding bit for who gets the frigging wish – flies into the air.
We both track the important bit as it sails through the air and hits the ground at our feet.
Juno doesn’t even stand up, it’s in her mouth and down her throat before we can shout, “Don’t eat that!” Which we do anyway.
The dog chokes briefly and then smacks her lips and looks up at us, tongue hanging out.
We crack up. Best laugh we’ve had for ages. Susy was in tears.
Maybe that was Juno’s wish.

As a metaphor for life at the moment, that played out with uncanny accuracy.