As days go Thursdays are not all that bad - except at our house. You see, we live with a 15 pound dictator. Yes, we are ruled by a shihtzu with special powers. Anyway, back to thursdays. By Thursdays we have run out of leftovers to feed our lovely SAINT dog Mabel. Now, Mabel is not your ordinary dog - she is a little blind and a little deaf and a whole lot stubborn.
When we arrive home Mabel wakes up. She begins to detect that there could be (or in her world *should* be) food for her. This in spite of the fact that she has already eaten a pounds worth of raw meat earlier in the day. Mabel begins to bark and open her mouth. She barks and opens her mouth repeatedly, confident that something will be put in her mouth. Mabel does not have an ordinary mouth. It is huge - we are fairly sure that if we looked we could see her lungs.
So back to Thursdays. I feel like Mabel's dealer. I cannot come home without a cooked chicken for her. I feel like I am going to buy her crack or her heroin. Anytime I think perhaps I could get a way without doing this I give me head a shake and then anticipate the headache I will have should I not purchase the chicken. Once I am home with the chicken I have to quickly get it into her bowl and get her eating or the barking starts. We know when she has been satisfied as she cleans her face, goes for a walk in the yard and then goes to sleep. She is one determined little SAINT who knows exactly how to get what she wants, when she wants it. Just how her senior years should be and we would not have it any other way!