Mostly it’s something yummy.
Sometimes, when there is nothing for doglets to eat in the fridge (or that’s what she says) then we play extra ball or she gives me an extra-long brush.
Treats though are the preferred currency. They come in all shapes and sizes.
There’s my all-time favourite, liver.
Or a bit of cold meat.
Maybe the odd chunk of steak from a left over braai.
I think chicken is very delicious but mom thinks not – it does nasty things to my tum.
I get the odd chunk of cheese too, although not often.
Then there are rollies. I used to think that rollies were quite good, but either they have changed the recipe or I’ve become more discerning in my old age.
The bacon ones are acceptable, but those turkey suckers are below par.
Unfortunately, that’s what mom bought last time she went shopping.
She handed one to me with a flourish.
I did the dancing pig thing and dashed off to slobberingly consume it on the lounge carpet.
The second time I took it delicately and gnawed on it for a reasonably long time under the table.
The only thing that made me scarf it down in the end was the fact that Ralphie came sniffing around.
His little white nose twitching and quivering near my stuff.
No ways was I sharing a single morsel with that feline.
The third time, about a week later, was just too much for me.
Did my waggledy bum moves and fled outside.
Nosed around on the stoep for a bit considering my options.
We don’t have a very interesting garden when it comes to burying things.
Eventually spotted a nice bit of soil in the middle of all the green stuff.
Ah ha.
Barged in there and started digging.
In fact – I could smell remnants of bear.
Remember – that’s the one that mom dug up, washed and put on the shelf to leer at me.
I’d just finished and was backing out, my snout nicely smooshed with great clods of brown earth when I heard this mind shattering shriek
My Poppies! Fudges! Get out of my poppies!
Turns out the green stuff was her poppies.
Ooops.
Not sure that they will ever be the same again.
