White Dog is a dainty and elegant eater. She has impeccable manners and is reserved at the table. Like all of the White Dog Army she is also a Master of Stealth able to silently and invisibly carry out elaborate plans involving hiding something or theft or retaliation or advancing an agenda...a floofy white ninja, if you will.
She was sitting next to me as I finished lunch. All of the White Dog Army had solicited and received their tithe of two bites (one from me and one from Steve) of our turkey sandwiches. Contented...or at least convinced that they would get no more...the WDA had settled down for a post luncheon naps. Except White Dog.
Without a word, I lifted the bread cover off the remains of the sandwich and extracted the turkey there. Silently, I put my finger to my lips and then handed the deli meat to the Little White Dog of My Heart.
It took three seconds of her lip smacking and noises of enjoyment to alert the others that some pup was receiving treats and to send them rushing to check out the source. I held up my hands to show there was nothing there but WD's blissful chewing of a tiny scrap of turkey long ago down her gullet told them that momma was playing favorites.
"Thanks a lot, Baby Girl! Tried to give you a little special something and now all of the others are mad at me. It feels like you did that on purpose just to show off to the others." She looked around the room where the others had migrated to see if Steve still loved them and then pawed my leg asking for more.