Yesterday morning, I fed the dogs their kibble as usual from the large clear plastic bin in the pantry. But yesterday morning was a little different because it was New Year's Eve day, and we were planning to go out for a while to go to lunch and do some errands and last-minute pre-holiday shopping. Pelly, my velcro-dog supreme, who is somewhat of a worrywart to begin with, was in place to supervise tie preparation of breakfast. He was extremely agitated because he had discovered that the level of kibble in the container was at a critical level. (He actually watches the level of the dogfood in the bin!) He kept whining and stomping his feet and poking me with his nose as I scooped out four measuring cups of dog food into their dishes.
"RED ALERT! RED ALERT! KIBBLE EMERGENCY, MOM!! KIBBLE EMERGENCY!!! THERE'S NOT ENOUGH KIBBLE IN THERE, MOM! IS THERE ENOUGH FOR BREAKFAST TODAY? WHAT ABOUT DINNER?? WHAT ABOUT BREAKFAST TOMORROW??? MOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!" Whining and stomping and tail wagging and nose poking and more whining and stomping....
"Yes, P, I see it. I know. Mama has to go to the feed store and get more kibble. It's okay--I promise you'll have enough for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow. You aren't going to starve to death. I wouldn't let that happen. You know that. Relax, P."
"BUT MOM! (More stomping and whining...) IT'S...EMPTY!!! THERE'S ONLY TWO OR THREE MORE KIBBLES IN THERE. IT'S EMPTY, MOM!! WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO??? WHAT ARE WE GONNA DOOOO????"
"No, Pelly, there's easily enough in there for supper tonight. I agree with you, though, I don't think there's enough for tomorrow's breakfast, either. Don't worry, it's on my list...the feed store is open today, so I can still get doggy food before New Year's eve. It's okay, Buddy."
"WELL... (snort, stomp, "huff"...) BUT IT'S A KIBBLE EMERGENCY, MOM! DON'T FORGET!!! PLEEEEASE DON'T FORGET! WE GOTTA HAVE KIBBLE!" (stomp, stomp, stomp...whine...)
"Eat your breafast, P. I'll take care of it. Don't worry."
Dialogue with a dog...what a concept, but also a reality. We do this at least once a month, Pelly and I. It's become sort of a ritual. He watches these things--kibble and dog cookie amounts in their respective containers--very carefully, almost to an obsession, and reports with equal intensity each and every time. I'm thinking of making a sign with a green, yellow, and red mark on it to show the levels of Kibble Security in our household. Of course, Pelly would want it to be on the red alert all the time.
I wish he's watch my bank account with that much intensity. I could use a "kibble emergency" alert myself now and then.
Ah, well. How would a dog count his "millions", anyway?
Who knew? My latest orphan, Baird (Short for Scaredy-Baird) has much the same obsession, only hers is directed at the Room Containing the Food Dishes (i. e. the Kitchen). The Baird is convinced that the sole purpose for a human to enter this room is to Feed the Kitties. Therefore, any entrance by a Two-Foots (as I think she calls us) is greeted with the chorus, "Feed Me! Feed Me! Feed Me!" in Meowese. (She sounds like that plant in Little Shop of Horrors, only whinier). Now it doesn't matter that nice food is already available in her dish or that she just ate 4 minutes ago and isn't really hungry; the fact that a Two-Foot is in the Kitchen means food must be served to her post-haste and PDQ.
ReplyDeleteYou know the old joke about the difference between cats and dogs? Dogs look at what humans do for their benefit and decide that humans must be gods; cats observe the same thing and believe they are the gods. Ain't it the truth!