After our morning perambulations, momma accidentally left me outside.
Shortly thereafter, my keen labraears detected the sound of drawers opening and closing in the food preparation area. This could only mean one thing...
|What are you up to in there, Momma?|
It appeared she had decided to let me sample some of the Lickety Stik chicken in a bottle from Norwood or possibly Tula (I fear I do not know which as momma recklessly scrambled the goodie bags that they gave me for the holidays).
Not one to mess about when there is nourishment involved, I hastened to accept the offering into my labrajaws of doom.
|Release the yummy!|
Only to have the chickenliciously smelling tube yanked unceremoniously back.
"No, Dexter!" squawked the foolish woman, "don't eat it, lick it!"
|You want me to do what?|
Now that seemed like the most inefficient way possible to transport the liquefied chicken goodness from her grasping paw into my perpetually empty abdominal cavity.
I know I should have walked away then and there, but, forgive me gentle readers, I am a fool for food. There I said it.
It pains me to see the rolling eyed blank look of ecstasy on my features, but such is the mindless, dare I say, animal vacuousness that overtakes me when confronted with yummers.
|Chicken in a bottle! Can it get any better?|
P.S. Momma just installed Charity Miles on her iPhone. Now not only can we track how far we walk, but every mile makes a donation to charity. You can go here to install it. And, of course, Momma being Momma, she looked up how it works first and found lots of info here. Yes, it gives her the heebies to think that somewhere in the cloud is a record of all her movements on walkies, but life is too short to get overly paranoid about this stuff, right?