The Fredösphere

Two paintings from the famous series of dogs playing poker sold for nearly $600 grand.  Unbelieveable.  Beautiful.  (The original story says they "fetched" $600K.  Fetched. Oh, that's cute.)

That reminds me:  I have an idea for a short story that will never get written, so I'll tell it to you now.  An innovative chef battling a mid-life crisis visits a dog show.  While there, he notices among the vendors of dog-themed nick nacks an artist who sells sentimental, gauzy paintings of women breast-feeding their dogs.  (Ooookay, let's pause here for a moment.  Believe me, if you hang around dog people for any length of time, you will learn that such paintings would not seem so terribly out of place.  I'm exaggerating a lot less than you might think.)  The whole dog-show experience inspires him and gives him new enthusiasm for his work.  He prepares a big catered meal for a high-profile client that includes some unnamed experimental ingredient.  The narrative will somehow lead you to suspect the ingredient is dog meat, but in the end you will learn it is -- surprise! -- human breast milk.  I mean, why not?  Why should that be disgusting?  (Although it is; oh yes, it is.)

So now you know more about how my mind works.