It’s gotta be a test. A test to see just how much I really missed the dogs while I was in Montana. You know, that week when I shared a queen-sized bed with nothing but pillows. Nobody woke me up between 4:30 and 5 am insisting that if they didn’t go out RIGHT NOW, I’d be sorry. My meals were my meals, there weren’t any black noses nudging me and trying to sneak something off of my plate. And, I had two hands free at all times, I didn’t have two sets of fluffy ears vying for the most attention.
OK, I’m back to reality now. It was during the breakfast gig. The dreaded one before I had to return to work. I carefully set each bowl on top of the kennels before I start to feed everyone.
Barney has been loose in the house since the day he came here at the ripe old age of 12. It’s hard to believe he’s going to be 14 in December. He drives me crazy every meal time as he runs back and forth through the house barking, demanding his meal.
I should have known something was up when he was so quiet. That is, until the crash of a full bowl of kibble hit the floor. Hello! If I wasn’t awake before, I was awake then. Two cups of kibble can cover a lot of ground at 6 am.
Congrats Barney. You get the “Fathead of the day” award.