November 9, 2021

White Dog shook her head. "Sorry momma, I must agree with the protest. First there is the time change thing and THEN dad is behind schedule serving dinner. I am sympathetic that dad has had a rough day, but..."

Dinner was already TWENTY minutes late...and that was in addition to it REALLY being an hour later. The White Dog Army was barely able to hold their heads up, so great was their hunger (despite treats an hour earlier). 

Roman was crying softly in the laundry area where he eats. Bailey refused to even look at Steve, who was hustling to get meals built. Opal was radiating "I am the GOOD girl," just in case that brought her bowl out first.

Zsofia sang at the gate, like a prisoner begging for gruel. "PLEEEEZE dad! My insides are all shriveling up; it has been like fifty hundred hours since we smelled the aroma, tasted the thrill of chewing, and were recharged with nutritious nourishment of your wonderful meals. They are a memory, a warm spot in my mind..."

Steve interrupted her by opening the gate. "Dinner is served."