Briscoe didn’t eat breakfast this morning before I took her to get her hair cut. I felt sort of guilty about this all day long, but she didn’t want to eat – and I couldn’t force her. I figured if it was as traumatic as I was making it out to be – she would learn to eat when she was feed.
I fed her when I got home, and after she sniffed around the house for a while to make sure the terrorists hadn’t infiltrated the place yet – she started eating. I walked into her little room in the middle of her meal. She stopped eating, looked up at me – stalked off into the living room, layed down – and let out a huge sigh. Like – HHHHMMMMM-HHHHHHHmph.
Seriously – did I really ruin her meal simply by being present? I almost told her hair cut was ugly (which it kind of is) but I thought that might be a little below the belt.
p.s. As I walked out of my office today – I tingled with anticipation of the weekend and the football game. GO DAWGS! Call me if you are in athens! T-Paine and I will be drinking some cold beers.
the thin line between optimism and delusion... 