Vacation: Aftermath
Jan. 11th, 2013 11:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stoutfellowTime was, feeding Gracie and Buster was a leisurely affair. I'd dump a cup of food into each of their bowls, and over the next twenty-four (or sometimes more) it would gradually vanish. Since my return from CA, though, this is no longer true.
Every morning, now, before my own breakfast, I fill the bowls. Zip! Gracie's there. (Well, she was there already. After all, I'm up and I'm in the kitchen!) Buster comes galloping up. They both dive into the food, and in less than five minutes it's gone, and they're both staring at me. A minute or two of this and I cave: another half-cup per bowl. Zzzzp, and that's all gone too (or sometimes only mostly gone). Left bowl, right bowl, it doesn't matter any more: the bowl is a mere pit stop for the food, on its way from bag to dog.
Ah, well. It's winter, and even if (so far) it's a warmish winter, a few extra calories won't hurt them.
Every morning, now, before my own breakfast, I fill the bowls. Zip! Gracie's there. (Well, she was there already. After all, I'm up and I'm in the kitchen!) Buster comes galloping up. They both dive into the food, and in less than five minutes it's gone, and they're both staring at me. A minute or two of this and I cave: another half-cup per bowl. Zzzzp, and that's all gone too (or sometimes only mostly gone). Left bowl, right bowl, it doesn't matter any more: the bowl is a mere pit stop for the food, on its way from bag to dog.
Ah, well. It's winter, and even if (so far) it's a warmish winter, a few extra calories won't hurt them.
