Sunday, March 3, 2013

Cupboard Love as genuine affection

When I see these posts about dogs' undying love and unconditional love and devotion, I snort.

I love my critters, and they love me. And if they can steal my food, isn't it family?
They look so wounded when I throw frozen chicken parts at them. (Which not only didn't hurt them, it didn't hit the furniture. But I still was hungry.)

And if I ever have a heart attack while carrying a sandwich to the table. both will leap over my dying body and fight each other viciously for the scraps of meat, cheese, bread and veggies involved, down to the last lettuce leaf.

Neither will eat the lettuce, but the winner will run to the living room rug to lick any remaining mayonnaise off the leaf. Then they will give me attention.

"Oh, look, she's not yelling at us this time," one might say to the other.

They might nudge me, lick any remaining food spots off, and then realize I am now largely inedible meat. And they will be sorrowful.

They are such great dogs. I actually expected them to understand the ethics of stealing food from ME, their alpha.It's wrong to steal food from me. Especially after they have already been fed.

So wrong.

They understand training, they understand rules. They understand consequences. (I suspect throwing frozen chicken quarters was a little over the top.)

They will behave so long as my eye is on them, then, in a lightning strike of canine cunning, grab and run--under the couch, under the bed. They eat in leisure and don't come out till my mood lightens...or they hope it has.

When I cooked another ham and melted cheese sandwich, the alluring smells pulled them out prematurely. Wagging all the way, up they pranced.

"That smells so good! May I have some more, please?"

I think I growled like a Rottweiler with Strangers Approaching.

They quickly disappeared under couch and bed.

After I had eaten and all was quiet, they re-emerged, ready to forgive me for my bad mood.

I can only say if I were playing Timmy in the well, and one or the other were playing Lassie, they would find Timmy's lunch pail, eat every crumb and only then set out to save the kid.

And if I were found,, they would smile and wiggle over the petting and fussing.

But what they would be waiting for from Timmy(my persona) is Treats.

1 comment:

J.R.Shirley said...

Uh...but they LOVE you!