by Jackie Gregg
So, I'm in the kitchen.
All four dogs are in the kitchen with me. It's morning and that
means it's time for cookies. The dogs all know this and they do not
let it slip my mind. Ever.
All four furry dog butts are planted on the tiled floor in a
row. All four tails going back and forth like they are competing in
a synchronized tail wagging contest. Their expectant looks always
make me smile.
But, this morning, they are getting a little lecture with their
cookies.
"Listen, my doggies," I begin carefully, "The whole country is
experiencing financial problems and we're going to have to tighten
our belts around here. Do you know what that means?"
Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag.
"Well, it means that instead of each of you getting four cookies
in the morning, you will only be getting three."
Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag. Cookies, cookies! She said cookies, right?
"We must make every penny count for two for a while so we're
going to have to cut back on a lot of extras."
Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag. Extra, extra! She said extra cookies,
right?
"So now, that box of doggie treats has to last for a whooole
month instead of three weeks."
Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag. Oh, yeah!! Doggie treats! When she
says doggie treats, she means cookies!! And we love cookies!! Wag,
wag, wag, wag, wag.
"We're going to have to cut way back on the smoked pigs ears, too."
WAG, WAG, WAG, WAG, WAG. She said smoked pigs ears, didn't
she? Yep. She said it. We're dogs... we have good hearing.
"So, from now on, you're only gonna get smoked pigs ears every
other month or so, okay?"
WAG, WAG, WAG, WAG, WAG. Did you hear that? We're getting pigs
ears! Woo Hoo!!
"We're all making sacrifices now," I say as I dig into the dog
treat box and come up with four square tidbits. A brown one for
Timm, a yellow one for Violet and whatever is left for Raisin and
Batdawg because they aren't the fussy ones.
Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Okay, we're
ready for round two of cookie time!
"Like not having flavored cream in my coffee every morning," I
say, letting them know they aren't the only ones having to make
changes as I pass out the treats. "It's back to plain milk for me."
Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Okay, none of
us peed in the hallway last night so pay up, lady! Round three!
"And no more pricey paper towels to clean up the messes you dogs
make!" I admonish tenderly, "We're using the cheap store brand now."
Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Round four, please!
"It won't be so bad," I say, looking at their eager faces.
"There'll always be plenty of regular dog food. It's just the treats
we're cutting back on."
Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag. Where's round four, lady? Huh? Hey!
Excuse us, but aren't you forgetting something? Like round four of
cookie time?
"Sorry, guys, but that's it for today," I say and show them my
empty palms. That's the signal that treat time is over. They looked
at one another and I swear I could see the confusion on their faces.
Then Raisin heaves one of her big dog sighs and turns to leave. The
rest of the dogs follow her into the living room and soon they are
all stretched out in their favorite spots because right after cookie
time, nap time is next on their daily agenda.
Smith, the cat, purrs into the kitchen then and butts his head
against my shins. That's his way of reminding me that his food dish
is empty and he would like his half a can of tender slices in real
beef gravy and ONLY tender slices in real beef gravy and not some
other flavor, or some other brand, if you don't mind. And even if
you do mind, it had better be exactly what I want or I will throw it
up on the sofa, and we don't want that mess again, now do we, lady?
He sits primly in front of me, wrapping his tail around to cover
his front paws. He blinks at me a few times and then yawns.
"Smith, old buddy," I begin gently, "I have some news for you.
Times are tough right now, the old pocket book has taken a direct
hit, so we're gonna have to tighten our belts a little. Do you know
what that means?"
He blinks again. Yeah, I know what that means. That means you
and the dogs are gonna have to make a few cutbacks. Now, where's my
half a can of tender slices in real beef gravy?
-- Jackie Gregg <flowerdchild at gmail.com>
1 comment:
I had to laugh when reading this. It reminded me of my 4 dogs who also do not understand that we are in a recession. LOL. I've been trying to trick mine by cutting their treats in half. So far, they don't seem to notice as long as they get the same amount.
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