FEEDIN' TIME

Ann and I take turns feeding the dogs...well, kind of turns, OK...I'll admit it, I'm good for every third time. But the scenario is always the same, as far as remonders that it's feedin' time. Theo starts this off in his chair. He loves his chair, it's a side chair that affords him the ability to lay in comfort and rest his chin on the arm staring intently at whatever human happens to be in the other side chair, seperated by a small table. Whenever you look at him, or he thinks your looking, he wags his giant whip of a tail ever so slightly. This means "I'm hungry". If his culinary desires are not met within an acceptable amount of time (this is dog time: 5 minutes = roughly a week) he escalates to standing in front of you and wagging his steel cable like tail with vigor and uttering a subuded "wuf" accompanied by some gutteral moans as if to say " If you don't feed me soon...and I mean SOON, I will commence to clear any and all available spaces occupied by your stuff with my magnificent wagging excaliber of a tail".
At this point, Irene, who pocesses what can best be described as kebob sticks for limbs, begins poking you with said legs...they are formidible kebob legs and almost always lead to the opening of the trash can, which triggers Sullivan ( who is esconconsed in his room at feeding time, since he and Theo are invested in killing each other and covering our walls and appliances with fresh doggy blood ) into a series of yips and barks that would make you think his room is the geographical equivilent of ethiopia).
Let the bouncing begin...as each dog is fed, there is much bouncing...a kind of canine pogo dance. Theo runs to our bedroom, jumps on the bed and then off again and assumes the sit position. Irene bounces down the hall to her spot in the living room and assumes the sit position. Sullivan bounds down the hall into his room and assumes the sit position. And the munching begins.
What amazes me most about this is we're talking about dry food...dry.food.
I love our dogs...they're so easy.