For years I have loved dogs more than cats. The main reason is because dogs, for the most part, just have a better attitude. They get up in the morning, stretch and happily start their day with a tail wag and a friendly how do you do. Cats are much more fickle. They can take you or leave you. There's a body language with cats that just says "You need me a lot more than I need you". That was my theory anyhow until this morning.
As parents of two small children (4 & 7), we have tried to instill in our children a sense of responsibility. We have created little jobs here and there and the kids are rewarded for a job well done. One chore the kids have is to take turns feeding our dog, Spencer. This has been working out really well lately. Max feeds him in the morning and Alex feeds him at night. Over the past few days I've noticed that the portion size has been getting smaller and smaller. Eventually I realized that the bag of dog food was almost empty. But hey, this has been a crazy week and I've been trying to stretch and make the food last just a little longer each day.
Well today is Friday and Max doesn't have school on Friday. I didn't want to wake the poor little guy on his day off for a simple chore and decided to feed the dog myself. No problem, until I got downstairs and remembered that I forgot to pick up dog food last night. So I reached in to the bag and scraped out every last morsel I could find which just happened to be about 25 small pieces. Clearly this was not enough food for the Spencer's breakfast so I grabbed the box of Meaty Bones and placed about 4 or 5 on top of his usual Kibble. Problem solved, Spencer will have breakfast and I don't have to buy food until this afternoon.
So anyway, I hear the thud of paws on the back door. My cue that Spencer has strapped on the old feed bag and is ready to go. I open the door, he comes racing through the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks when he gets to the bowl. He looks at me then back at his dish. He then proceeds to pick each Meaty Bone out of the bowl, spit it out on the floor and glare at me as if to say " are you f**king kidding me. You call this breakfast"! After all the bones were spat on the floor he devoured the kibble. Begrudgingly he started to eat the bones on the floor all the while staring me down.
After he finished his meal, he perched himself on his favorite spot, a crappy old rubbermaid tub in the kitchen. I didn't get the usual body bump that says "hey thanks a lot. That was great". In fact I could swear that he made a gesture with one of his front paws that resembled an F you lady. So I'm trying to decide if my theory on animal behavior is completely off or if Spencer just really enjoys his Kibble. No worries Spencer. Your belly will be full of kibble tonight.