I have two of the sweetest black labs ever. Henry is 7 seven years old, a glorious 90 pound--and fit--waddling love machine. Beau Jangles just had his 10th birthday (happy birthday Beau!!), and has the internationally loved traditional face of a black lab. They're both super fast runners, adorable, and affectionate. They also have a certain fetish for food. Dog food, people food, squirrel food--it doesn't matter; they're not selective. They just love it all! They could eat it all up (mind the pun) in a heartbeat.
Henry's Food Accomplishments
Dear Doggy Diary,
I love food. It's so yummy. Something about the fragrant smell of barbecue chicken, steak, sweets, and practically everything else just gets me so excited! I can't help but lick my lips whenever I'm in a six-foot radius of food, or if I'm thinking about food....(lick) It's my favorite part of the day, and so naturally one of my favorite rooms in the house is the kitchen. You see, when my owners remodeled the house they made the islands and counters higher than usual; I am so lucky that I am a dog who can reach higher than usual. Here are a few of my most memorable encounters--and just so you know I AM SO WOOFING PROUD OF MYSELF!!!
BBQ chicken
I've had a long, complicated relationship with chicken. You see, sometimes it's just sitting there waiting for me in the trash can that's at just the perfect height for a tall dog (shoulder level, to be exact). It's not even slim pickings! Something about the delicious taste of BBQ sauce on a perfectly cooked partially-eaten chicken leg/breast/drumstick is irresistible. Even when the chicken is hiding out on the counter, I scramble up, smooth as a rock climber until I reach my goal. Usually, I have time to lick a drumstick or two before my owners catch me, and I've even grabbed a chicken breast and kept it safely in my jaws for a perfect four seconds before graciously surrendering it to a tugging hand.
Tartettes
Jordan had a "Pi Day" pie/tart/torte contest at her school. She made apple tartettes for it, and worked long and hard to make them under a time crunch, and high quality. After the baking, Jordan made two plates: one plate had all the perfectly baked, lovely tartettes on it, and the other had all the ones that were slightly misshapen or epitomes of decimation. When she went upstairs to put on pajamas, I saw my chance. Lunging to get my front paws on the counter I gobbled up as many tartettes as possible. I was fast and efficient; my mouth is so big that I could snatch up the tartettes easily. If my mommy hadn't heard my two (yes--I'm that efficient) slurps, I might have had time to get to the mess-ups too. Bummer. I guess I only took the perfect ones. Jordan was furious at me, and a few minutes later I came away with a really good feeling in my tummy and a really ominous one in my head regarding my portion size in upcoming meals. When I rolled on my back and showed Jordan my (tartette-ed) tummy, she got a little less angry but still delivered a lecture on my being a bad dog and, of course, only eating the good tartettes she wanted to turn in to her school. She didn't win the contest, but I should have told the teachers how yummy the tartettes were!
Steak
Steak is super yummy. My daddy is really good at grilling and he likes ribeye a lot. My mommy was starving when she got home a couple of days ago, and so she did something she usually never does--she made a steak and a big meal for lunch. She only had a little tiny piece of the steak, and then went upstairs for three minutes to ask my daddy if he wanted any. He said no, he'd already had lunch, but then when he was walking into the house he changed his mind. Too bad. When my mommy was upstairs, I seized the steak and ate the entire delicious, juicy, big piece of meat. My mommy came back into the kitchen and went to the plate where she'd put the ribeye.
"Did you eat it already?" she asked my dad.
"No," he replied.
"Then where did it go?"
I gave myself away, I admit it. Well actually for some reason she looked right at me and I just can't poker face my mommy ever because I love her way too much and I don't play cards. I ducked my head and wagged my tail nervously between my legs, unable to stop myself from licking my lips as I thought about the yummy juiciness of the ribeye. I always seem to drool when food's involved.... the end of the story: Daddy was hungry and I definitely was not.
While I was writing this post, my mom was very very nice and fed the dogs for me. I saw Henry waiting outside the door as she was getting ready to put down the two food bowls. He was jumping three feet into the air. Oh, how food can motivate..... WOOF!
No comments:
Post a Comment