When I call myself the “crazy dog lady” it paints somewhat of an inaccurate picture. Crazy implies that my behaviour may be erratic and not conscious. When the truth of the matter is that I know exactly what I am doing when it comes to my three dogs. One of my interesting tidbits is that I’ve trained them what meals we eat.
|This mornings dogs breakfast... Toast, peameal bacon, egg & one hash brown!|
TAKEN: SEPTEMBER 20th, 2015
Over time they have come to understand how their breakfast meal and overall menu differs from their supper one. Since Dot arrived almost 10 years ago, I’ve never prepared a meal for myself that I didn’t intend to share; and as a result they tend not to mooch. They wait patiently knowing they will always be rewarded. That said, snackage is treated in an entirely different manner.
As we all curled up in front of the big picture windows yesterday afternoon and enjoyed the cottage rain, I realized the four of us darn near polished off an entire bag of Cheetos. As I put the bit of remaining crumbs back into the cupboard I realized the damage to my fat ass wasn’t as bad as my guilt originally assessed. You see, when I only ever get every fourth bite of any snack I eat, it tends to seriously minimize my overall calorie count.
Though the saying has them as man’s best friend, I’ve very carefully swayed their opinion of me via their stomachs. The one thing I find odd is that best friends usually cook for each other and they’ve never once offered to cook for me. A good thing I suspect, there’s enough dog hair hanging around that I’d hate the thought of having to pick it out of my food.
Then again, if I thought they could manage the BBQ without burning their fur, I’d give ‘em a shot. As you can expect, I’m generally pretty resistant of the idea. Not because I think the thought of it’s silly... But because nothing takes away my appetite more than the smell of burnt dog hair!
OK, so a little crazy just crept in right there.
At least I’m willing to admit it!!