I'm having dinner, as if at a palace, like with the queen of England, or some other royalty. It's a big and beautiful place, as one would expect, decorated with gilding and luxurious curtains. I have a place at a table off to the right side.

My dogs are here too, and allowed to run around in the dining room. Until we discover that Sydney has her head in a bucket, where she is up to her ears in ice cream. Apparently our hosts had stored the ice cream decoratively in these buckets on the floor around the tables, and Sydney found one.

Nobody seems to mind too much, but I stop the meal and get up to round up my dogs and put them in the car for a while.