Unfiltered

 

We have our morning coffee.  The dogs get fed.  Then they each get a rawhide chewy.  We have our rituals.

 There is more to the morning chewy ritual, however.  Judy holds out two.  Henry gets to pick first because he’s the senior dog.  Henry picks the best one and Jesse gets the left over.  (We’ve tried letting Jesse pick first, but Henry still gets the best one.)  Henry takes his chewy to his end of the coffee table and chews on it for a while.  Jesse takes hers to the other end of the coffee table, holding it while her eyes are fixed on Henry.  Henry never makes it all the way through his chewy before he has to get up and go get a drink.  He steps away, Jesse bolts over and grabs his chewy, and returns to her spot lying down on her chewy while chewing Henry’s.  Henry looks around.  If he ventures too close to Jesse, she growls protectively.  Henry jumps up into the recliner and falls asleep.  That’s it for the chewys.  If Henry is done with them, then so is Jesse.  Unless Henry looks like he might want one again, then they are the most important thing on the planet.

 

 

There is no embarrassment.  There are no apologies.  This is pure two-year-old attitude unfiltered.  “If I have it, it’s mine.”  “If it looks like it’s mine, it’s mine.”  It’s not important to eat the chewy, it’s only important to control the chewy if the other dog wants it.  The chewy advantage passes back and forth at odd intervals during the day, and by evening both chewys have been consumed.  Next morning, coffee, breakfast, and chewy drama anew!