Tuesday, February 19, 2013


There is one constant in my life: when I eat, my dogs are right next to me. They would be sitting in my lap if allowed. All dogs beg, I know this. But Thatcher and Boden play mind games. They look so alarmingly sad, that it makes you want to give them your food. Like it's your idea, not theirs. I know that they are never hungry. I'm usually the one to feed them. So why do I always feel obligated to save my last bite of toast crust for them? It's ridiculous. Anyhow, tonight they performed their normal begging routine while I enjoyed some ice cream. This is when something terrible happened. Boden officially started drooling. Granted, he's extremely sloppy and always has crusty gunk on his fur from eating or drinking anything, but tonight it was genuine begging drool. The kind that just hangs there and grows longer with every bite a human takes. He, thanks to Thatcher, has perfected the "I'm just a sweet, starving puppy" look. So I now lose the last two bites of every meal to my little orphans. And I end up with double the drool on my lap because of it.

Hoping for a bite of ice cream

Hoping for a bite of anything

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