(In case you’re wondering, it was a fairly decent meal.)
Dad says he is our slave and has to do all this work in preparing our food for us. (Well, duh, obviously.)
Honestly I don’t see what the problem is – it doesn’t look like much work to me.
Though next time I’d prefer if he put that food in my bowl instead of storing it. In fact, just give it all to me!
Some of you might have heard that Dad was feeding both of us critical care lately. Well, yes, he was. And we hated him for it. But we put up such a fight about it that he finally stopped.
Oh, and we started eating with more enthusiasm too. Maybe that helped. (I doubt it – it was totally our disapproval that did the trick, I’m sure of it.)
Anyway, dad was all happy when he saw us “sharing” a carrot this morning:
The thing is, he doesn’t understand that we have a different definition of “sharing.” As in, this carrot is MINE, Betsy, and you can’t have it, and I’m going to pick it up and take it over to the other corner so I can eat it in peace… and then you’re going to come and take it from me, and I’m going to have to grunt and take it back, and then dad’s going to have to swoop in and “remind” us that actually, yes, he did put out 2 carrots (one for each of us).
Which, of course, we already knew. We just like to play with your mind, dad.
p.s. We are fine, and don’t you ever dare try to syringe feed us critical care again. GOT IT, DAD???
Apparently dad and mum went away to Australia for the past month. I guess we didn’t notice, since the meals kept arriving on time and treats continued to be dispensed. Oh well.
When dad got back though, he showed us some pictures he took. Apparently he thinks it’s funny to tease us.
Well, it’s NOT.
Just to be extra-super-annoying, dad took another picture with his hand so we could see just how amazingly huge these carrots were.
This time dad took lots of pictures of yummy veggies.
Y’know dad, sometimes I really don’t like you.
Are we done yet?