Breakfasttime for Basset Hounds; Oy, I ate all the Provolone

Jean-Luc here.  Man, what a morning I’ve had already.  Up at the crack of dawn, and a full day ahead.

First, I’m trying to enjoy a leisurely breakfast when I see out of the corner of my eye:  Nigel.  Heading straight for my bowl.  he does this every effing morning:  gobbles HIS food and then heads for mine. No way, Joe-Say, I say.  I had to bite down hard on his ear and bark right at him; still, the dumbass doesn’t get it.  Daddy had to step in and, while it’s embarrassing to have to have your Dad guard your food so your brother doesn’t eat it, I’ll take it.  And plot how to make Nigel eat slower.  Maybe if I showed him the stats on obesity in Basset Hounds, and got my hands on a Glamour magazine nutrition issue so he can see that in order to eat less, he should take a bite, chew, contemplate, and stop when he’s full — NOT when his bowl is empty and his brother has more food on his plate.

Speaking of overeating, I ate all the Provolone.  Mamma was getting some out of the refrigerator and Nigel and I were taking down the barricade to the basement and mud room.  We were trying to be quiet, but the woman has ears like … a Basset hound!  She put the cheese down on the table, scolded us, and then returned to her cooking and I was being so so quiet.    I carefully wedged my tongue into the ziploc top of the bag, and caaaaarefully got the cheese out.   thank god it wasn’t the stuff with paper between all the slices or I’d really be sick.  Anyway, Mamma got to me just when I finished the provolone. she didn’t see the Colby packet immediately, but soon after, and following a chase through the house, I gave it back to her.  Dammit.

She said I’m going to pay for this.  I say a basset hound with stomach issues is the gift that gives to the whole family.

Hee hee.