Almost ten years ago, I finished graduate school and bought myself a special friend. No, not that one. Get your minds out of the gutter. I was working in lovely Iowa at the time and found myself a Golden Retriever named Timmy. Hey, don't make fun of the name! He's very sensitive. Timmy has seen me through three serious relationships, and obviously the last of these relationships cultivated in a marriage.
You'd think, being a Golden Retriever, he would find special joy in chasing balls and jumping in pools of water, but I bought the one Retriever that has no interest in either. So, the way to Timmy's heart is through is stomach. Many of the first years that I had him, I worked in cities away from the person I was dating. He used to sit closely by me when I ate my measly small morsels at night, which often just consisted of cheese and crackers. A piece of cheese to the floor a luxury. A small corner of cracker pure heaven.
In those days, a finicky dog he wasn't. He would eat regurgitated material if it meant more food for him. (OK, well, he still does that. Which ironically sounds gross and is gross but sometimes really helps if you are in crisis mode with a sick child.) However, nowadays, in the world of a family, Timmy has developed almost an arrogance about what he will accept in the way of scraps. American cheese...argh, no. Bread...well, maybe. Fruit...what are you thinking!?
At night, when he used to faithfully lie at my feet under the dinner table, he now waits by one of the children knowing that something good will probably be dropped, and his chance of meat are probably greater. He likes babyfood meat/vegetable combos (it still is meat), and that usually gets all over the place under the baby's highchair. One night we were having pot roast, and the baby was having just plain old baby food, and Timmy was between a rock and a hard place. He smelled the pot roast, which was favored, but knew the babyfood was easier accessed...so he just kept roaming, back and forth, back and forth....just waiting for the kill, I guess.
The baby continuously drops cereal (cheerios), and Timmy won't touch it. Mr. I Am Too Good For Cereal Now. I constantly have to pick them off the floor. Why have a dog if they won't eat the damn Cheerios off the floor!? Ha Ha.
Oh well, like I say, at least he cleans up after the kids when they are sick. We all grow and change when the kids come.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
6 comments:
I want a golden retriever! OK how did you change the header and template??I need help with these things!
Lisa
Too funny! Love the new blog look!
You just described my Cocker Spaniel, Bonnie. The old girl won't even touch her own dog food unless we put "goodness" on it. Goodness is ether shredded cheese, chicken broth or butter spray. Oh, and she eats cat hairballs, which I think is gross and helpful at the same time.
Dogs are great.
Timmy sounds very smart! My Labs are not so choosey. i won't tell you what they consider to be delicacies - it's not fit for print! I love your new look. Did you do it yourself? If so, you are very creative and talented!
How can you post a tribute to a "snarfer" and not post his picture? Picture please!
I LOVE your new blog look! I clicked on over here and thought, "where am I?!" It's very cool!!
The story about Timmy is great, I love Goldens...but I can't get the image of him hoovering up the vomit out of my head! Eeeeeww! Although, I have to think, what's grosser--ME cleaning it up, or the dog?? Ok, the dog can do it...if he wants.
Post a Comment