Politics doesn’t make strange bedfellows, Foodmaster does.

We hit the supermarket running, leaving the dog waiting in the car. Zooming past bread and dairy, we only needed soup, meat, and Gold’s beet horseradish, which I’m still convinced he could get in Phoenix if he just got up and went looking for it, because really, it’s like Boca West out there.
We found the poultry section without a problem, and gladly availed ourselves of the conveniently located napkins after pawing through the slimy chicken packages.
Now we were down to the soup aisle – three kinds – and the dog had been alone for ten minutes.
We couldn’t find it.
How could we not find it?
It’s soup. It’s a staple.
We broke down and asked for help. Aisle 5, Dogfood and Soup.

Of course.

We were done - we didn’t like beets, anyway.