Every night, when we get ready to go to bed, our dog is inevitably laying on our bedroom floor looking like a canine corpse in the Calcutta marketplace. It's just her way. Eventually, we shoo her out where she has her choice of two dog beds and two couches to sleep on. Usually, she ambles over to her upstairs bed, takes a drink of water, and sets herself down for the night. If it's cold, I cover her with a little fleece blanket. She's a purebred, you know? She's delicate. Or something.
Last night, as I was watching her bed down for the evening, I noticed that there was a piece of dog kibble lurking at the bottom of her water dish. This probably came about when Maggie ate too fast and horked most of it back up. Tastes better the second time, I guess, because she does it all the time.
I was about to grab the bowl and refill it, when she made a move towards it and began to drink. It only took a couple seconds before she realized there was food, a precious piece of food, at the bottom of the dish, so she had better retrieve it. Now, you understand, right next to the water dish in question there was a bowl full to the brim of fresh, dry kibble. Nope, she had to rescue this one piece from its watery grave. She stuck her nose into the dish in an exploratory fashion, then plunged her entire snout a good three inches below the water. While fishing around for the food, she was constantly blowing bubbles to keep the water from going up her nose. Folks, I don't know if you've ever seen a large dog blowing bubbles in a water dish while digging around for one piece of kibble, but I assure you it's the most fun you can have in your kitchen with the curtains open.
She got it, by the way. I went to bed with a vicarious sense of accomplishment. Good girl.
No comments:
Post a Comment