Maybe they’ve changed. I don’t know. I do know, however, that my brother and his wife used to be the world’s worst leftover eaters. Or non-eaters. I, myself, have always liked leftovers and have spent a lot of time releasing cold air from myriad refrigerators. Once something went into Vic and Mo’s refrigerator, though, it reappeared only for a final journey to the garbage can. It didn’t matter what or how tasty. They almost never ate leftovers. In the past, I often provided them the service of noshing through their more appealing old food. Today, however, I have been replaced by a Great Dane.