It was the crash that woke me up. My dream dissolved into reality in an instant and I sat up straight in the bed. What was that? There was no one else in the house, or at least I thought. With some trepidation I threw aside the covers and silently got up off the bed, leaving my empty Saturday coffee cup on the bedside table, and made my way to the bedroom door. I heard some scuffling. Something was definitely going on.
As quietly as I could, I opened the door, cringing at the squeak as it swung open. It was still pitch dark and I couldn’t really see anything in the corridor in front of me but using my hands as a bumper, I ventured forward in the direction of where the sounds were coming from. The sounds of ruffling continued unabated.
As I got to the end of the passage, I realized that the sounds were coming from the kitchen. This was the moment of truth. Taking a moment to take a quick breath, I inched my head around the corner and peeked into the kitchen.
And there he was.
Roger, my burly German Shepherd, looked up at me with a worried look on his face. He’d just been caught with his paws in the cookie jar. Or more specifically, his paws in the coffee beans. He was surrounded by thousands of coffee beans that littered the floor around him and he seemed resigned to the fact that he had been a very bad boy.
It appeared that Roger had gone on a little midnight journey to the kitchen and had spotted the open bag of coffee beans that I had left on the counter – fresh from my late-night cup of steaming hot magic the night before. His curiosity must have overtaken him and in a desperate attempt to investigate, he had swung his front paws onto the counter and brought the whole bag tumbling down – spilling the most delicious coffee beans you could ever imagine all across the kitchen floor.
Looking into Roger’s eyes, he clearly understood how important this coffee was to me. The guilt was all over that adorable face. I’ll be honest, coffee town is the only thing keeping me sane at this point and these coffee beans were the drugs I chose. Who could blame Roger for wanting a piece of the action?
My heart rate had slowed somewhat by this point and I started to collect all the coffee beans from the floor, making sure that Roger didn’t eat any of them. He made sure to edge away into the corner to signify his apology. And so there I was, in the early hours of the morning – cleaning coffee beans off my kitchen floor.
I don’t know if it was the delirious state I was in, but as I cleaned the last few beans up and deposited them into a plastic bag, I couldn’t help but be curious myself. As I sunk to the floor in a heap, I had the thought.
What would Roger have tasted if I hadn’t been woken up by the crash?
So, I did it. I brought a bean up to my mouth, rolled it between my fingers and then took a bite right through the middle of it. I was eating coffee beans. Within seconds my mouth was filled with the aroma I had come to love. The texture seemed to melt in my mouth and instantly the caffeine overwhelmed my senses. It was magical.
In all my joy, I hadn’t realized a sullen figure on four legs which had scuttled across the kitchen floor to lay his head in my lap. I reached down to pat his head and whispered, ‘Don’t worry boy, I would have done the same thing.’