The boys’ original owner had a tradition, which they hold in complete approval. First: Nobody gets locked in Gitmo without getting a treat. Second: Sundown is Snacky Time! Currently “Snackies” consists of one can of dog food, shared between the three of them. Since two of the boys are the size of Orange County and the third is by no means small, you can imagine how long the actual consumption phase of Snacky Time lasts. But they insist on it.
Sometimes I get busy – as when I was proofing the last entry – and forget. The boys do not forget. So I’m typing away, reading, typing, reading…you know the routine. And Ghost starts looking at me very expectantly. Ghost starts whining at me for no apparent reason. Fritz steps down from the couch and bumps my elbow. Magnus gets up and gives me the eye.
Oh. Sorry, guys. Just let me finish this, and then “Who wants snackies?”
Do not stand between the dogs and the door while asking this question.
I love dogs. And if I had half the nerve would do what you are doing.
But since I have half a nerve I am working in the insanity of Boston to support my family of stray dogs in ruran NM. They get to eat good food in a home while I support them in Insanity. Who is insane?
dd
Usta feed the hounds some canned food. Open the can at both ends and make an aborted toss downward causing the glop inside to slide out. The nearest pooch snagged the slug in mid-air, gulping down half. The next-nearest critter inhaled the remainder while it was still in motion on the ground. I made a mental note to never look like food to them and felt lucky that they appeared to like me.