Wednesday, March 18, 2009

The Great Sandwich Escapade of 2009

Normally, our sweet angel, Slippers, is quite well behaved. However, as with most children - furry or otherwise - there are certainly days when this is, to say the least, questionable. Over the years we've had a visit or two from what we've decided to call Slippers' 'Evil Twin, Skippy'.

A bit of background...
We found Slippers nearly 8 years ago at our local Humane Society and instantly fell in love with her. She was just about a year old and came to the shelter as a stray. They felt, and we concur, that she'd been somewhat abused and abandoned by a former owner. When she was brought in, she'd already been spayed and had clearly had a bit of training, but she was somewhat timid and growled at most men. Luckily, she was also playful, gentle and oh-so-sweet! We brought her home and, from the very first day, we knew we'd chosen the perfect dog. The first night she was with us, we went to mom and dad's for dinner. Deb, Bill and the boys were there, too, and the boys were so excited about the new 'puppy'! They wanted to help feed her so we put just a few pieces of kibble in each of their hands and they held it out for Slippers. We weren't quite sure what to expect, but to our delight she ever so gently licked the kibble from their small hands.

And so she is - the gentle 'giant'. She's a border collie mix; weight wise, probably a bit heavier on the mix since she's upwards of 90 pounds. Never are we more reminded of this than when we assemble on the couch in the evenings to watch television or read. Kevin on one end, me on the other, and Slipper stretched out in the middle between us. If, by chance, she feels that she needs a bit more room to stretch out, she'll 'hip check' one or the other of us until she's got enough of the couch to satisfy her. Typically, the hip-checkee will move from the couch altogether and head over to the loveseat. That suits her just fine.

Anyone who knows Slippers knows that she's certainly not shy when it comes to food. If you've got it, she wants it. It doesn't really matter what 'IT' is; with very few exceptions, she'll eat anything. That said, she's never actually 'taken' anything. She always waits for it to be offered, albeit not exactly patiently.

Fast forward to this past Saturday. I was sitting on the couch enjoying a sandwich for lunch. I was about halfway finished when there was a knock at the door. Slippers, ever in alert mode, raced to the door barking like mad. I could see it was our neighbor from across the street so I quieted her before opening the door, and off she went. (enter: Evil Twin, Skippy) I spoke with our neighbor for just a moment, but as I turned from closing the door, I found Slippers ... in all her glory ... enjoying the second half of my sandwich! She'd stolen it right off my plate!! Now, though she's a food hog, this is highly unusual behavior for Slippers. Countless times we've left food on the coffee table and she's never so much as sniffed it. I have no idea what got into her, but there she was, turkey hanging out of her mouth, chomping gleefully with nary a care in the world. ...until she heard the sound of my voice: "SLIPPERS!", I exclaimed. "Bad dog!!" She dropped what remained of her feast - a slice of cheese - and looked woefully at me. "Bad dog!!" I said again as I picked up the plate from the coffee table. But I left the cheese on the floor. And, curiously enough, so did she. Having been reprimanded, she wanted nothing to do with that cheese.

As difficult as it was, I ignored her for an hour. With the exception of catching her eye a time or two, at which point I repeated the 'bad dog' tidbit, I completely and utterly ignored this sensitive cannine who just lives for attention. That whole, l-o-n-g hour, she didn't so much as glance at that slice of cheese on the floor.

After a while, I sat back down on the couch and invited her up. She slowly put her front paws on the couch and gave a little jump. She snuggled close to me with sad, pouty eyes, and we chatted. I stroked her smooth black fur and spoke to her in hushed tones. I could feel her body relax ... she knew that, as mad at her as I'd been, I still loved her and she'd been forgiven.

A few minutes later, she jumped down from the couch and snapped up that cheese, toute suite!

Now I ask can you stay mad at a face like this?

1 comment:

The Weir Family said...

Your right how can you get mad at a sweet face like that!