Waiting for breakfast

I'm a bad mother to these dogs Leda has entrusted to my care.

I make them sit and allow me to walk in and out of doors before they do.

I make them sit for treats.

I only allow them to get on the sofa when I say it is OK (well, I try to do that...) and I lock them in kennels (lined up along my side of the bed, and lined with cozy, comfy fleece pads) at night.

And, not only do I make them sit and wait a moment before I place their food bowls on the floor in front of them, I make them wait until I've made my coffee before I even think about filling up their bowls!

Maybe if I pretend to be dead she'll hurry up and feed us.

Well, I don't want her to die, but I wouldn't mind if she went on vacation for awhile and I had The One Who Feeds Us to myself again...

Maybe if I stare at the bowls that will get her started...

Maybe if I look pathetic that will make her fill up our bowls.

Does this look convey that I'm starving?

I'd sure like to be tasting some food with this super long tongue of mine!

 

I hope PETA doesn't hear about my mistreatment of my dog-girls and sue me to protect their civil rights!