No, make that TWO monsters.
I’ve always suspected that dog food probably tasted like shite. The last couple of weeks have confirmed it for me. No, I haven’t been digging into the Eukanuba during the day, but my little adventures in Doggy Tuna Casserole have confirmed that at least two pooches in this universe vastly prefer fresh, real food to something that comes out of a bag (or, in our case, a giant garbage can…how symbolic).
I’m going to have to get the whole thing on film, because I’m not sure I can accurately describe the way Len dances from foot to foot while I’m making her dinner, or the way Ron stands RIGHT BEHIND ME the entire time I’m mixing Milk Thistle into her lunch. If they could talk, I’m pretty sure the conversation between them would go something like this:
“Holy shit, Len. She’s doing it again! I thought it was a one-time thing.”
“No way, Ron. Look! Macaroni! Oh my God. Tuna! TUNA!”
“She’s putting broccoli into that white box again. I can smell it! I’m losing my cool. LOSING MY COOL!”
The other day, I came into the kitchen to find Ron gazing longingly at the microwave. She knows where the veggies come from, and I’m pretty sure she thought if she stared hard enough, they’d actually materialize. If only she had opposable thumbs. She could make all these dinners herself. She’d crack open that giant bag of peas, and make a feast – a little hardboiled egg, some rice. Maybe some grated carrot. Seriously, it would be delicious. If only…