This morning I needed a dog bowl for something, so I picked the one closest to my hand. It happened to be Lilian’s. Lilian, on a scale of 1-10 of Doberdivaness, is a 10. And bless her soul, she has an only-child mentality, but is living in a Brady Bunch environment.
I try to indulge all my dogs’ personalities. With Lilian, I make her feel special with such things as a unique bowl and being served dinner first. Her bowl has circular indentations on the bottom to help cool her food faster on hot-food days.
I had pretty much already used up my allotment of brain cells faster than usual on this day, so when I looked for it at dinner time, I could not find Lilian’s bowl. Nor could I remember what I needed a bowl for in the first place, so no tracing my steps. I haphazardly looked in the closet, under rolling crates, in Ginger’s stashing spot, and I even thought I may have tossed her bowl in the trash earlier while wondering whose turn it was to participate on our next bath day. No bowl in any of these places.
Though I am stubborn, there came a point when I gave into the fact that the bowl was hiding beyond the range of my GPS … or ESP. The point came when the hungry faces staring at me were dragging drool strands along the tile. So I pulled a bowl from the rafters and set it in Lilian’s food-fixing place.
Actually, the bowl came down earlier when I used it for de-boning the chicken thighs from the slow cooker. This was an added perk to the Doberdiva because she not only got her portion of the stew, but got extra soupy-stuff to lick off the sides. Brownie points for the cook!
Raven, on the other hand, is not speaking to me.
Hahahahaha! If that were only true! Hahahahaha!