Читать книгу From the Dog's Mouth - Wavecrest Imprint - Страница 9

“Mister G, I know you are frustrated because I won’t eat on your schedule. Well guess what? You know I have a Sagittarius Moon. I do things my way. How many times have you told a client that a Sagittarian is like a free range chicken, plucking and clucking anywhere and anytime they please? Well, sir, you have been describing me all this time and yet you never applied it to my eating habits.

“I know that you are trying hard to love me and you want me to love you. I do love you, but we dogs do not express affection like you humans. Humans seem to want something back in exchange for their love. You imply, ‘If you love me Mr. Darby eat when I want you to eat.’ It doesn’t work like that in the animal kingdom. If you love me, you would let me eat when I am hungry, not when it is convenient for you. I know you better than you think I do. You want me to eat when you want me to eat to show me you’re in charge. Which has nothing to do with unconditional love.

“Remember when you used to ask me why my eyes were wet? I was crying for you because I felt your sadness. I wept because I wanted you to be happy. But I am also frustrated because of how mad you get at me.

“Here’s a compromise I think you can sign on for. Leave my food where I can get to it when I’m hungry. You were a lot smarter than all those smarty-pants dog trainers who told you to put the food away if I didn’t eat within fifteen minutes. Instead you always left it near my water bowl. Good for you and me. Have a little patience with me. Living with you has tested my serenity, Mr. Drill Sergeant.”

Dada stayed on the floor holding me close to him, me the little rascal, me the tougher-than-nails Wire Fox Terrier. He laughed until he cried and cried until he laughed out loud. We were this way for more than half an hour. He could sense what I was saying to him. You could tell without a shadow of a doubt (as Nancy Grace says as she hounds a murder suspect into the gas chamber) that he and I will never have another conversation about when I eat my food. (My poo is another story, and we’ll get to that recurring theme before long.)

In sobriety circles, drunks talk about not quitting one minute before the miracle. Thank God Dada did not quit before I taught him patience and tolerance.