Eating is Good

Now that Swedish people have confirmed my theory that everyone should take naps (they proved that humans are smarter after a nap -- now that's a good reason for humans, right? I think everyone is nicer after a nap, and that's an even better reason), I am theorizing that everyone should eat on a regular schedule.

You see, your stomach isn't smart. At least mine isn't. It doesn't know what time it is. But I do. I always know when it's breakfast time and when it's dinner time. Unfortunately my mom thinks these times are somewhat flexible. This is very bad. If my stomach doesn't get its meal when it is meal time, then me and my stomach are not happy. (Mom just muttered something about fatulence, or something, but I'm sure it had nothing to do with me.)

Mom doesn't always get up at the same time, so I don't get my breakfast at the same time. This is bad. I know it's breakfast time, and I tell my stomach, and then my stomach starts feeling empty. I suppose I could wake her up, but she looks so cute when she sleeps; drool comes out of her mouth, and her behind makes noises. I laugh, on the inside. So I usually let her sleep. Then she tells me I'm a good girl and gives me a cookie before breakfast. This is good. Dog cookies are very good. Not as good as human cookies, but still very good.

Mom eats lunch, but says that I don't. She's wrong. I eat part of her lunch, and I look at her sadly and drool a little, and she gives me more dog cookies. This is a very good thing. I don't share her fruit though. Ick. Then sometimes Mom forgets about dinner. I don't know how a reasonably smart human can forget about food, especially a human as round and slow as Mom, but she gets on this computer-typey thing, and she forgets. So I put my head on her foot and sigh if I'm inside, or if I'm outside, I bark and bark until she lets me in. She says I shouldn't bark so much but seriously, how is she going to know I want to come in if I don't bark? It's not like she gave me a bell or something. So I can usually get my point across. I like my food, but I like hers better, most days. She lets me lick the bowl or plate sometimes, but not often enough. Then I stare at the cookie jar until she gives me a cookie. Cookies are good. She doesn't realize how good I am at making her give me cookies.

So this is Kimiko, signing off. I'm going to make Mom give me a cookie now. Betch I can do it, too. Wonder if I can make her take me to the dog park tomorrow?