A wet golden retriever

It’s hot and very humid. I suppose that’s what makes my olfactory senses so sensitive. The whole house smells like a wet golden retriever and we all know how bad that is.

Today’s luncheon selection includes jambon-frommage (ham and cheese for nonFrench speakers). For a second it looks like all three dogs are enthusiastic, but when I put the bowls down, all I get is feigned disinterest. I know Roxy and Taylor are hungry; they just want to be enticed. Yes, these dogs would starve in the real world.

I have to coerce them to eat their lunch, but I’ve given up on Pansy. When I deliver her bowl (she hasn’t stood up to eat in years) she looks away. She’s reached an age (11 years) where she just isn’t that hungry anymore. Although thankfully she will reward me by eating any treat offered her. This way I know she won’t pass away during the afternoon nap.

Like speed bumps, the three dogs lie on the floor and nap, snoring loudly. I’m changing the air fresheners.

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