Mandy Sutter takes the biscuit

Thinking about playfulness this week has cast some of my regular activities in a new light.
 
For instance, when I go out of the house and leave Fable (the dog) I always give her two biscuits. She likes Winalot Shapes. There are six different ones – a star, a flower, a house, a bone, a heart and a fish, all different colours.
 
Over the last few months I’ve started giving her a pair of biscuits rather than any random two. So she will  get two bones, two flowers, etc. It takes a little rummaging, a little inspection, but inexplicably I always make time for it even when I’m in a tearing hurry. My own favourite biscuit is the bone, followed by the star. Fable doesn’t mind.   
 
Further building the insane ritual, I say ‘a star for my star’, ‘a flower for my flower’, or ‘a heart for my heart’ as I feed her the first biscuit. With the house, bone and fish, it isn’t as straightforward, but I say the words anyway, since no-one is listening and Fable can cope with any insult if delivered in a nice voice.
 
You’re probably thinking I need to be detained somewhere for my own safety. You may have a point. But what I’ve realised this week is that the biscuit ritual has a tiny grain of spiritual value. It’s expressive, but it’s expressive of things I can’t completely name. Love for the dog is in there, but I sense other values too, twinkling in the half light. I won’t try to investigate because if I don’t understand the ritual, it follows that I can’t harness it to progress any of my ever present goals.  
 
So I say long live dog biscuits. And long live daft rituals.