Being the sissy that he is he has to have a special diet. He eats a high-quality dry dog food that we buy from the pet store (whose name I will not mention unless they want to pay for an endorsement).
Okay, I lied.
I don't wait until we finesh eating. I settle in my chair comfortably, take two bites from my delicious homecooked dinner and then, as if my head were a marionette and my dog controlled the string, my attention is drawn to
The stern command of the owner-trainer rings in my memory, 'always finish your dinner before you feed the dog. It will make him respect you.'
But, but....I am powerless over that look!
'Oh alright!' I say. Perry rolls his eyes.
In an attempt to win back some of the respect I am loosing I order
'Okay!' I tell him.
He pauses for a moment (it's a pride thing, he never wants to seem too eager). He carefully eats two bites.
Then - and this is the weird part - he picks up one kibble and places it on the floor next to him.
Then - in perfect standard poodle fashion - he lays down, curls one foot under and - with great civility - he eats the rest of his dinner.
"What is up with that one kibble deposited on the floor?" I ask Perry.
"I don't know," he says, "but he does it every time."