White Dog, Quinn, Puff and YoYoMa were out in the kitchen watching Steve start dinner. Nuka was snoring gently on my foot. I held Oso as he gurgled and sighed pressed against me. Oso spent the day with an upset tummy; and Nuka was just limp.
We decided on rice in chicken broth for the two with glickies. That is what Steve was cooking under the supervision of the White Dog Army. There was great interest in the simmering rice expressed by snooters sniffing and tails wagging.
As the rice simmered, Steve gathered the bowls for the others and began to make the "normal" meals: salmon and sweet potato kibble enhanced with homemade mackerel, potatoes, mixed vegetables, blueberries, and pineapple. White Dog quickly stopped Steve by jumping up and putting her paw on his hand. "What?" he asked. "I am making your dinner." She stopped him again and then moved toward the stove where she sat and looked pointedly at the rice pot. The others joined her and they all sat staring at the bland meal with hopeful anticipation.
"It is not a treat! Your brother and sister are getting bland boring sickie food," Steve tried to explain but they were not deterred. "Now what?" he asked me coming to the doorway. "The Army wants what Oso and Nuka are getting, not their regular meals."
White Dog had come into the living room to plead her case; she sat before me with "That" look that is meant to melt my heart and make me her obedient slave. I shrugged.
"It is not like they will be harmed. If they think it is a treat, great, why not knock their socks off with some rice? Make a second batch and give the healthy kids kibble with rice in chicken broth. You will be their hero!"
The reaction to the rice in broth equalled the ecstasy of last weekend's liver pate treat. Heads bowed to bowls and not a pup moved until the stainless steel glistened. Even our glicky ones ate heartily.
"If all they had was rice..." Steve began. "Don't over think it, just accept their thanks graciously." With that the WDA, one-by-one went to give compliments to the chef.