Look, my job is to take care of my mom. I am supposed to guard her physical and mental health. For mental health I keep her from getting bored. I make sure she’s constantly vigilant and never lets her guard down. That’s easy.
For her physical health, I demand regular walks so we get lots of fresh air and sunshine. I also make sure my mom eats properly.
Yesterday she came home from a lunch meeting with half a chocolate cookie. She knows she is not supposed to eat cookies. She planned to enjoy this one as an afternoon snack.
That’s where I saw my role. When she left her bag within reach, I moved fast. The cookie was gone in two bites. It was a big sacrifice. Dogs aren’t supposed to eat cookies either. But hey, anything for the mom.
But was she grateful? Did she thank me for being such a thoughtful dog who looks after her owner?
“Gracie,” she scolded, “you know better. You have a perfectly good dinner waiting. And when I forgot to pick up the cat food as soon as I came in, what did you do? Yes – you ate the whole thing. No wonder we keep running out of cat food.”
I plead innocent. Ophelia keeps getting fatter and at this rate she will soon explode. I’m the only slim, responsible member of this household. (Creampuff is slim but no one would call her responsible.) I do my best. And what do I get?
Sigh. A dog’s life is not always easy. Time for a nap to recover from all this trauma.