you are most welcome. i really don’t mind buying you dog food, because i feel like it’s part of our unspoken contract: i feed you regularly, you don’t pee in my bed. you’ve kept up your part of the bargain, i should probably do the same. it’s always funny to me to see you do the same dinner dance you did when you were a 9-lb furball now that you’re a 70-lb beastie, and it’s tripled when i walk through the door with a new bag of food.
i wish that i’d remember to buy your pansyfood 3-4 days before you run out, because it’s not fun shoving my arm into the bin and praying to the god of dwindling kibble (fun note on dyslexia, i accidentally typed “dog”) that there’s enough for even 75% of a meal because i got home late and petsmart and petco are closed, and even if the last of your food is given to you tonight, you can wait a little bit in the morning for a midday meal. like brunch! (by the way, petsmart and petco, could you put some stores a little closer to my house please?)
now i’m afraid we need to revisit the “floor/not floor” conundrum. i can understand your confusion about what constitutes floor and what doesn’t, what with how messy the house has gotten, but standing with your left front and rear feet INSIDE my upright knitting bag seems a bit ridiculous, even for you, you silly animal.
also, the barking? driving me up the freaking wall. however, i’m most grateful you don’t bark during sleeping time (well the night time one anyway – you haven’t quite figured out that nap time is the same as sleeping time). and since we’re talking about things that bug me, stop waking up to piddle in the yard before 5 am please. it’s unnecessary.
thanks, and there’s a treat for you in your dog bed.
the lady with the food