Dog Blog #3, Dinners, Drive-throughs and Divas
By Panda, the Blue Heeler from Texas (now retired in Florida)
This week, my world changed, and I’m ticked off (glad I never had an encounter with ticks — heard they’re the worst) — anyway, first I need to say ‘sorry’ because it’s been a while since my last blog. I got some angry pee-mails. Gotta keep the followers happy, right? It’s not my fault, brothers, and sisters! Mom said she was too busy working on her writing to help me. Really? Who’s more important? Me — the diva of the household, right? Well, besides not putting my work first, she’s also messing with my food. That is serious. Let me explain.
In my first blog, “Gettin’ old ain’t for sissies,” I talked about how important food is to me — well to all of us — am I right? How many of you know the exact time for dinner? In my house, it’s 6:00. My humans are still surprised when I bark at exactly 6:00. Some think dogs aren’t smart — but we can tell time! How cool is that! Dinner time is important, and a delay is unacceptable. If Mom and Dad are busy — having a cocktail, a coffee or cooking their dinner, well, I keep barking and pace back and forth from the walk-in pantry to the kitchen. Hello! Get the hint here! Time for diva’s dinner! Another sign of my intellect, I know where the magic happens…the pantry. That’s where the kibble is kept and the box thing that heats up my special chicken.
Some say I’m spoiled because all your humans serve up is kibble. You need to work on your human training strategies. Check this out: I don’t just get chicken, but some of their food (yes, from the table). Well, I did…
The vet says I’m overweight. Hello! Thank you for telling me! Like I can’t feel how my belly hits the floor before my legs, or that my collar suddenly pinches. (Must have shrunk.) Fat shaming. It’s evil. To be fair, I understand, and my humans get it. I suffered from arthritis for years. Exercise was painful. I used to go on lovely long walks, chase squirrels (now I can’t see the damned rodents). For a while, it was so bad, I didn’t even want to get out of my bed. It was a dark time for me — even worse than my unrequited cat love (see blog #2). Luckily, my humans found some good medicine. It helps a lot, but I gained all this weight in the meantime. Mom and Dad have too. They blame it on something called Covid. Whatever.
So, now I’m 14 ½ (whoa-what’s that in dog years — wait, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know!), they really spoil me — even sharing restaurant food! Have you tasted the meatballs from Clasico Italian Chophouse? Made from scratch — I can tell! Outback’s not bad for steak (honestly, not too choosy about steak). Mom likes a Greek restaurant called: Apollonia. She orders the Meza platter but guess what she saves for me? The lamb! M-a-a-a, is it tasty!
Besides fancy restaurants, when I’m doing my other favorite thing — riding in the convertible, floppy ears whipping in the wind, super-nose on sensory overload (man — I mean, dog, am I a good writer), we go to the Chick-Fil-A drive-through. That’s right: dinners, drive-throughs and divas! Jealous? Well, if it makes you feel any better, I only get the small portion of nuggets. Five bites. I counted.
I know you’re wondering, what’s the problem? Panda eats and eats whatever she wants. She’s the diva. Well, here it is. My humans need retraining. Well, one of them anyway. I always dance between the two of them at the table (it’s a thing only herding dogs can do — I can teach you if you want)…and sit and smile in between, so they can eat too. (I’m considerate.)
Well, Dad’s traveling, so MAYBE my focus has been a little too intense on Mom. She’s the only one at the table and it’s stressed me out — less food to score. My approach MAY have been a little too hardcore beggar, instead of darling doggy diva diner.
Okay. I’ll share my failure with you, brothers, and sisters. I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t forgetting the rules, so I put my head on her lap, panted, and drooled (a lot) on her clothes. Maybe whined a little — but let’s not get too critical here.
It was Sunday. I recall it vividly. She scolded me: “Enough, Panda! You sit nicely while I eat and then you can have a taste in your bowl when I’m done. You already had dinner!” Blah, blah, blah. WTF! (Where’s the food?)
Ha. What a joker, right! Why change the perfect system now? So, I tested her for a few nights. Nope. Darn. She’s doing that firm-follow-through-parent poop. The rules have suddenly changed. Hasn’t she heard the famous (but not true) saying: “old dogs can’t learn new tricks”?
The failure is all mine; I have no choice. If I want extra food — (duh) — following her rules instead of mine (for now) is the only way. The tables have turned — and it’s not the dining table I’m talking about. I can’t wait until Daddy comes home from his trip. We’ll get things straight again.
Until then, Love, Panda
