I think I am finally getting the art of begging down- I mean, why eat dog food when you can eat human food, right? Plus the only way dad gets to make and eat meat is if he shares it with me! I have discovered that being ultra cute is not the way to go. When I started my begging career, I would try to be real sweet- I would put my head up on dad's lap, and look at him, I would go under the table and try to jump on his lap, I would nibble at his pants legs to show that I was hungry. Oddly enough, that just got me yelled at, and I was so badorable. (Badorable- adj. my dad works for a dictionary so he can make words up I guess- this is a verbal conjunction of bad and adorable, badorable).
Finally I started to just stand there and throw tantrums. My parents thought this was funny. I would whine and bark and then stamp my feet. It is really hard to stamp your feet when you are a dog, it takes a little bit of coordination. I had to stamp my left front foot, right back foot, left back foot to get that stomp stomp stomp sound without falling over.
If I sit on the hard, cold, wood floor, I usually get a treat- but my butt is all slidey, and I don't want to sit there.
Anyway, after they eat, I usually get food, but seriously, I deserve to be fed don't I? I mean, they are suppossed to take care of me, why don't they give me there food? I only get bits, not a whole meal like them! (A few days ago, mom found out that I was barely eating half of what I was supossed to be eating, so they have been focused on getting me to eat mounds of my dog food... but I don't like it)
Well, off to beg some more, it is almost breakfast time, and that means... TOAST!
Woof!
1 comment:
I feel like I should calm down certain aspects of Winston's rant--he was eating about 3/4 of what he's supposed to, not "less than half." And all the extra food Ben slips him probably makes up the difference, but still, he's runty and so I'm trying to get him to eat the minimum recommended for a dog of his age and size. Oi, Winnie.
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