And here's Daisy again. You can see Tulip there in the background:
When Julie arrives home from work, she is ravenous. If she gets dinner within four minutes of her second foot entering the house, she probably won't think about eating Daisy or Tulip. At least she won't admit to thinking about it. I'm pretty sure Tulip is aware of Julie's agitation when she's hungry; she's apt to hide under the couch. Daisy remains unaware, for Daisy is dumb.
Well, she's a sweet dog. She does sometimes get confused, however, such as when we found her sleeping in Tulip's open cage, which along with Tulip's bed, is much too small for her.
Sing along, Chris Farley fans: "Fat dog in a little bed..."
Not the sharpest bulb in the Happy Meal, or however the saying goes. Anyway, so yesterday I had dinner scheduled perfectly. The sauce was in the pan, the water was just reaching a boil, and Julie would be home in 13.6 minutes. Then she called, and I told her of the brilliant pasta that would be ready the second she got home.
"But I want pannercakes."
"Um, yes. That's what I was thinking, too. You know, cook up some pasta, then make pancakes. I'm on it."
As soon as she hung up the phone, I dumped the water and de-sauced the pan. Then I discovered empty space in the fridge where the milk usually sits. Panic ensued. I tried calling Julie back, but no answer. And that got me wondering whether she would ever get hungry enough to consider nibbling on a dog. Okay, I was hungry too, and possibly hallucinating.
We ended up going out.
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