Dinner featured one of our favorites, bratwurst.  We had plowed through the first serving and you could see the look on our eyes, as we sized up the final brat.

It was agreed that we would share the sausage and it was cut in two for distribution.  The best part was that I would be one of the lucky recipients.  As I headed back to the kitchen table with my prize (half a bratwurst in a bun), our beagle Kirby circled my feet.  Silly dog, brats are for people.

I sat down.  My eyes took in the beautifully grilled sight.  I took the bratwurst in my hands and for some inexplicable reason, I looked up.  I looked up in time to see something disturbing to meat lovers around the world.

There was my youngest son Ben still working on his first bratwurst.  He sat with the sausage held out to the side, preparing for his next bite.  Then without warning and much to the shock of everyone around, Kirby the Beagle stood up on his hind legs and silently snatched the bratwurst from Ben’s outstretched hand.  Absolutely no contact with Ben, it was a clean swipe.  A bratwurst theft in broad daylight.  A sort of revenge eating for what Kirby perceived as a slight in not having his previous request for a bratwurst approved.

After an appropriate amount of dog shaming, dinner finally resumed.  Something however was amiss.  My son Ben sat with tears in his eyes and there I sat with my extra half-a-brat.  The only right thing to do, really the only thing to do, was to offer Ben my brat, which he quickly accepted.  Ben’s tears dried, as they swelled in my eyes.  Oh dear bratwurst, how I wish I had the pleasure of gobbling you up.

Looking sad, my family looked at the positive of the situation.  “At least, Kirby kept Dad on his diet.”  I suppose so, but the bright side never before lacked so much light.  The loss of a brat was sort of all right.