Monday, October 19, 2009

I'm not Eating That Piece

Raleigh does a very wierd thing with his food.

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).

It is Raleigh's fervent beleif that he should eat what Perry and I eat. He waits with polite solemnity while we dine. Nine times out of ten, when we have fineshed eating, I put a spoonful of whatever we ate on top of his dry food. I don't ever give him more than a spoonful. I have learned from experience, if I let him gorge on people-food he spends the next twelve hours cutting farts that are bad enough to clear a dance floor.

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 Raleigh lying on the floor across the room.

Raleigh has perfected a look that says 'that's alright, carry on, eat your dinner. I'll just lie over here alone and hungry.'

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 Raleigh to 'come' and 'sit' next to his food bowl, which he does, perfectly. The bowl is full because he never eats more than a quarter of his breakfast. I dribble onto his dry food a spoonful of chicken skin or soup broth or grilled talapia, or whatever we're having that night. I make him 'stay' until I am seated back at the table.

'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."


  1. I fall for that 'look' too, don't feel bad! :]

  2. Maybe he's offering you a bite of his food. Very decent of him, I think. Sneaky D. Catt, is fond of sitting in a chair, at the table, waiting for his place setting and becomes quite indignant when reminded that his place is not at the table. But then he never offers me any of his high-dollar food I schlep to the Vet for or any of his cat-treats that smell like a tuna's ass.

    Not that I'm complaining, I'm just saying...