Let's talk about the dog, shall we?
She's a dog. She'll eat just about anything.
When I'm working in the kitchen, she lies in the doorway, just beyond the linoleum, listening for any of the cue words that she's grown accustomed to; uh-oh, oh crap, or dammit. These words usually signify that I've dropped something probably edible on the floor, at which time she magically appears at the spill site because, as the canine five second rule states,
She's a dog. She'll eat just about anything.
When I'm working in the kitchen, she lies in the doorway, just beyond the linoleum, listening for any of the cue words that she's grown accustomed to; uh-oh, oh crap, or dammit. These words usually signify that I've dropped something probably edible on the floor, at which time she magically appears at the spill site because, as the canine five second rule states,
"if its on the floor for more than five seconds, it's yours." -- Canine Five Second Rule
She's pretty picky about what deserves her interest, though. Clumps of grass that fall from under the lawnmower are to die for, but she won't touch a leaf of lettuce. She'll risk a good lecture and a naughty finger shake to get to the Catbox Buffet, but Heaven forbid a broccoli floret should cross her lips.
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| Ball? What ball? |
As picky as she is, when Brandi hears the sound of her dinner dish scooping up a bowl of dry kibble, you've got her undivided attention. But if you put that bowl down in it's place without covering it with gravy, you'll face the stare.
She gazes at the bowl, then you, and then back to the bowl. She's waiting for you to pour it on, and thoroughly mix it in, so that every bit of sauce smothers and softens every delicious morsel. Go ahead. Do it.
I want to do it every time, but I can't afford to buy the extra cans of gravy all of the time. And so I get the dissatisfied, sad puppy eyed, appalled that you would even think to serve me this slop expression, as her eyes meet mine, before she lowers her head and looks away, in silent protest.
I always give the same response, "Oh please! Just eat your food." And she will, begrudgingly, only because she's planning to pilfer the cat's dish as soon as our backs are turned.
The Other Bitch
Now, we'll talk about the cat.
The poor thing is always starving. Thanks to the dog, no one can ever be sure how long it's been since she has eaten. There is a clue, however, that we've learned to pick up on.
You see, Kitty isn't a sit down and clean your plate kind of chick. She's a snacky, eat when she feels like it, slowly grazing throughout the day, kind. So there's always something left in the bottom of the bowl, when she walks away. She actually thinks it's empty. You must fully cover the bottom with at least an inch of food before Miss Kitty believes that you're not just messing with her head, and that there is actually food there! So, if you ever see the cat's dish without at least some crumbly crumbs scattered about, then you can bet the dog was the last person to see the victim alive, so to speak.
The poor thing is always starving. Thanks to the dog, no one can ever be sure how long it's been since she has eaten. There is a clue, however, that we've learned to pick up on.
You see, Kitty isn't a sit down and clean your plate kind of chick. She's a snacky, eat when she feels like it, slowly grazing throughout the day, kind. So there's always something left in the bottom of the bowl, when she walks away. She actually thinks it's empty. You must fully cover the bottom with at least an inch of food before Miss Kitty believes that you're not just messing with her head, and that there is actually food there! So, if you ever see the cat's dish without at least some crumbly crumbs scattered about, then you can bet the dog was the last person to see the victim alive, so to speak.
So that leaves us to bear the annoying (B-Bump. B-BumpBump). That's the sound of the kitchen cabinet door bouncing against the frame as it closes ... after it's been opened by a furry little paw, grasping at the bottom edge. She's not trying to open the cabinet to get to the food. No, we've done this experiment and learned that she just wants the cabinet to make that noise because it irritates the hell out of us, and it will surely bring someone to the kitchen right quick. It's quite a genius operation for such a dumb beast.
Unfortunately mealtime doesn't always work out to her specifications... not if the dog gets to the dish first. So now, after each feeding, the cat's dish gets tucked away in the pet food cabinet, to be brought out only upon request ... or by (B-BumpBump). And somewhere in the contract it states that if we don't comply within what she perceives as twenty minutes, I get a puddle under my chair.
