An intuitive day

I was recently cooking and contemplating an article I had just read. It was about cautious, careful folk vs. the more daring sort. The article said that both had important roles in life – the more daring would be the astronauts, and the cautious and careful types would be in the control tower. A reversal of roles could be disastrous. What brought this to my mind was eggs. Whenever I am separating eggs, I carefully drop the white into a small glass bowl and the yolk into another. Then I transfer the white into a bigger bowl with the other whites, thus averting the potential danger of spoiling the whole batch with one failed yolk. Becca, on the other hand, drops the new white right into the bowl with the rest. A dangerous practice, I have always thought. I once watched, fascinated and disbelieving, while a friend making eggnog separated a whole dozen eggs, dropping every white right into the beater bowl. I could not believe anyone would be this bold, or maybe foolish. This day, I was making a “Queen of Puddings” – with pretty uninspiring final results, I might add, and I must have been feeling frisky, because I daringly broke the second egg and put the white right in with its mate. But, oops – a mistake. The yolk broke and slid into the whites, and I ended up wasting two eggs. I debated what to do with the yolky eggs, and couldn’t think of anything I wanted to make just then. I decided to scramble them for Margaret, who was snoozing in a sun ray on the couch in the next room. I whipped the eggs up, and put them in the microwave for a minute. When the minute was about 55 seconds up, Margaret leapt off the couch, and was dancing expectantly at my feet. I took the egg dish out of the microwave, and she became positively frantic. My question is – how did she know? She was soundly snoozing, yet she even asleep, she read my mind and knew that the eggs were for her! It is amazing. I had been cooking all morning, yet she was totally uninterested, knowing I was making a squash and onion dish that she would get none of – since onions are bad for dogs, and she doesn’t fancy squash. When I broke and separated two more eggs, using a more prudent technique this time, she knew that there was no hope of her getting any, and didn’t bother to even look at me with her appealing big eyes.