That mom must think that I am a daft dog.
She’s probably right thinking Ralphie is a daft cat, but I, Miss Fudgie-wena am the least doff dog that ever existed.
It goes like this…
On a Saturday afternoon, she tries to feed me dog food.
Firstly, you probably want to know how I know it is Saturday? Simple.
We go to the veld and Alpha does not go to work. For instance, I know for sure that there was an extra Saturday in the middle of this week too.
In the late afternoon she wanders inside, washes out our bowls, trips over Ralph who is very verbose when it comes to dinner time.
He’s silent all day, and then chats like crazy when he thinks it’s time for dinner.
He’s not a good time teller either, because often he starts yakking a good couple of hours beforehand.
Mom points at all the pellets he’s managed to surround his bowl with and tells him that if he ate more of his food, instead of sharing it with the floor – he would not be so hungry.
Sometimes he hoovers up those rogue pellets, but mostly he leaves them for her to clean up.
I don’t think he notices that she just redeposits them all in the bowl again.
She puts down our food and makes yum yum noises.
Ralph falls upon his food as though he had not eaten for weeks. I sniff it a bit. Maybe delicately pick out a few good smelling pieces and then wander away.
Oi! Says Mom. Come eat your food Fudges.
I just shrug and saunter back to my balls outside.
Ralph looks confuzzled.
He stops eating and stares at the oven like it’s going to answer all his questions. He flicks his tail a bit. Mom glares at him. He stares back with his slitty eyes.
I know for sure that Alpha will be cooking cave-man style on the fire outside. Mom has already taken the meat out and hung it on the line to defrost.
Remember – dogs don’t see so marvellously, or hear fantastically but our sense of smell is second to none.
I can smell what they are planning on having for dinner.
This means, that my own furry Fudgie self, will also be having nice braaied stuff for supper. None of this dog food rubbish!
