June 16, 2010
White Dog came sniffing into the kitchen followed by The Other White Dog. "Is that chicken," she asked trying to peer into the oven window. Quinn hip bumped her so that he could get closer to the smell and suddenly there were menacing growls and circling Eskies threatening the calm sanctuary of the cocina. "Out!" I demanded, "or no one gets the bird!" White Dog started to sputter a complaint about it being her brother who started things..."Don't want to hear it, out, I said!" I repeated. The White Ones looked at Steve. "You heard her and I think she means the part about no chicken otherwise." Both dogs crossed the threshold into the living room, Quinn stopping to turn and sit with his paws just on the line. White Dog hopped on the chair right inside the room which gave her the better vantage point AND the opportunity to jump over TOWD should there be a horrific chicken spill that needed immediate remediation. Neither crossed the line but watched raptly and panted heavily as Steve plated the meal and prepared the usual dog meals of stewed chicken and vegetables with rice. He served the four leggeds first but both merely ate the extra bits of chicken Steve had added to their bowls and then headed to sit by our sides hoping for--and ok--receiving more of the roasted bird hot from the oven. After mooching many many samples, White Dog and The Other White Dog returned to their regularly scheduled meal! Spoiled dogs?