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!

Lilian was impressed with her monumental bowl.

Raven, on the other hand, is not speaking to me.

Hahahahaha! If that were only true! Hahahahaha!