Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Brother, Can You Spare a Pizza? - Picture
Everything has to be on the Approved List, and the Approved List is really very small.
With her Chronic Renal Failure, twice daily Thyroid pills, creaky bones, slow walk, and general Old Age, Mrs Dog is on her Bonus Time.
It doesn't stop her from getting her point across.
Being a fearful dog, she's got a very gentle way of getting that point across.
She still wants anything that Dad, that's me, has. She now will beg from anyone that has anything that she thinks she can get something from, anything that she thinks she wants.
Since she's incredibly intelligent, more so than many people I know, she also knows how to get that point across. She was taught a long time ago the concept of Show Me. That is, to say, she will lead you to what she wants and crook her head at it. Then she will look back at you directly.
Doggy says Gimme.
If she needs out, she'll take you to the door.
If she needs water, she will walk you to the bowl and look at it.
If she is hungry for a treat, she walks you into the kitchen and looks up at the cabinet above the oven.
I just finished making a couple pieces of pizza warm and crispy, since nobody here in South Florida knows how to make a pizza. At least nobody I have found...
Walking over to my chair, that was when the fun started.
She knows she is not supposed to beg, but she started. Staring at me. Two brown eyes. Intensely melting through my soul like a laser beam, she was telling me that she wanted some of what I had.
That piece of pizza. Or one of three. Doesn't matter, Lettie was looking for a handout.
Unfortunately, the Chronic Renal Failure Diet means No Salt, No Phosphorous, Low Fat (Bad Pancreas too), and a host of other Noes. No table food for Mrs Dog, at all. I've had to dive for a piece of cold cut that fell onto the floor before she'd attack it.
She assumed the position in view of me, all the while she would stare at me with my shaking my head.
As I started piece number one, I saw Billy walk across the street with a handful of things to return. He needed help with his computer.
By the point when Billy was inside the door, Lettie had assumed the position between the couch and the coffee table and stood, stock still, immobile.
The brown laser beams never stopped. In fact, she just glanced back at Billy and then went back to staring me down.
Billy had the onerous job of trying to convince her to move so he could sit down on the couch. Who knew a 42 pounds dog could take up so much room.
Nudge her gently, I said, She'll move!
It didn't work.
Try it again!
No such luck, she wasn't moving.
So Billy nudged her down one paw-print at a time to allow him enough room to put himself on the couch. She wasn't giving way easily.
But since Billy was seated, I was able to keep eating my lunch. At least I DID offer him a beer. I'm not a total waste of a host!
She migrated past me, to her mat. The entire time I was shaking my head, the Universal Signal for No. It didn't work. She didn't stop until those three pieces of Mushroom Pizza with Sopressatta were firmly down my gullet.
None of us had seen her quite that intense.
I walked the plate to the kitchen and she calmed down but never stopped staring.
After a half hour of visiting and necessities, I could finally bend down to her ear and ask. She wagged her tail knowing the ritual of Show Me was upon us.
I asked "Show me, do you want to go outside?".
That would be a big fat no.
I was lead to the kitchen where she demanded retribution for not giving her that pizza.
Having given her a couple treats that were on the approved list, finally, the job was done and Mrs Dog could rest, happily, on her mat.