My dear friends Bill and Maryanne lost their beloved (and enormous) golden retriever Moja this weekend. Moja was a very special dog — one hundred and twenty five pounds of big yellow love — and he died quite suddenly of a twisted gut. It was beyond awful. There were big gulping sobs and tears all around.
All I could think to do was drive home from the vet’s office and pull the emergency stash of pot roast out of the freezer. I made it ages ago, and there was too much for just the two of us, so I froze the rest. Good thing I did. Bill and Maryanne were too upset to even think of eating until last night, when Maryanne put the frozen pot roast in to warm up. The smell of started to fill the house. Maryanne ate a little and felt better. Bill wandered into the kitchen and managed to eat a little bit. The new pound puppy they brought home because the house was just too empty watched them eat pot roast. Everyone started to feel just a teensy bit better.
And my faith in the restorative power of pot roast is reconfirmed. There is so much we can’t fix in this world. People and animals we love die suddenly and unexpectedly. Winter comes. All seems bleak. And then the smell of something warm and beefy, perhaps with a few greens thrown in, sneaks through the house to remind us that all is not lost.