Okay, so this is a blog about mental health, but sometimes I really neeed to put those issues aside, take a deep breath, and laugh at my dog.
First of all, this story does not go without credit. My best friends recently got an automatic feeder for their cat, who would harass them for food at all hours, and they too have hilarious stories about the cat's reactions to the new magical food dispenser.
So thus began my logic. My biggest battle with my dog is always around food. She is a pug. Most dogs don't have that "off" switch when they've had too much food, so they will continue to gorge if the food is all accessible. My dog doesn't just not have the "off" switch, she is full on *obsessed* about food. It makes her world go around, my friends. First of all, needless to say, she is on diet food. Otherwise she would be as big as a house. For years, I believe that to her, I have been labelled as the "food dispenser". Sure, I give her love and cuddles, but above all else, I give her FOOD. And for that, she loves me. Being the food dispenser is a tiresome and thankless job, and I was ready to give it up.
What if I didn't give her food? Would she still spend hours a day yelling at me, asking for me to drop a few more kibbles in her bowl? I figured, if she stops relating me to the hand that feeds, she will stop making my life hell six hours out of a day, bouncing around like an energizer bunny (with sound effects) and doing so until I feed her.
Yesterday was the holy day. The day that the magical food dispenser came to live at our house. I feel that it may go down in my dog's memory as something akin to the rebirth of Christ... the day the big bulbous machine came into her life and dispensed kibble at pre-programmed times. The wonderful, warm, plastic dispenser of food.
I would love to say it was smooth sailing, but there were a few glitches regarding... "the transition".
I programmed the machine to dispense a half cup at 9:00 am (breakfast), a quarter cup at 5:00 pm (dinner, and prime feeding time) and then another quarter cup at 8:00 pm (bedtime snack). Impatiently, my dog and I sat perched in front of the machine, tails wiggling, waiting to see what would happen at five pm (the first programmed feeding time). The clock chimed, the machine whirred, and "tick-a-tick-a-tick." Out came four kibbles. Dora snatched them up and swallowed them down in one gulp, and then resumed her usual activity - yell at Mummy till more food shows up. Frustrated, I started to dismantle the machine to figure out why the little rotors weren't working as the should. This, of course, resulted in me accidentally dumping 10 lbs of food on the floor.
This moment will now go down as the day that Dora's birthday, Christmas, and Halloween all culminated in one, spectacular moment of dream-fulfillment. Pug Mardis Gras.
I stuffed her in her kennel and began cleaning up the mess.
Long story short, after accidentally dumping the unit TWICE, and programming the dinner function over and over to measure how much came out, I finally had a working unit. Of course, throughout this half hour, my dog was having a cornonary whilst throwing herself against the side of her kennel.
This morning, I am proud to say, was the first successful feeding. I was sitting with my coffee on the couch, trying to ignore my dog as she danced around me yelling and whining, as I stared drowsily at the computer clock... praying for it to hit 9:00. Sure enough, "whir whir whir... tick-a-tick-a-tick." Dora didn't clue in to the noise trigger, so I had to point her to the bowl from the couch and ask her what was going on. She ran over there, a voila! Magical food dispenser made all her breakfast dreams come true!
It's only been a day, so we're still getting used to the drastic shift in responsibility. Dora dances around, barking at me, while I look at the machine and shrug. It's out of my hands, my little chicken. Time to take it up with the machine.
Mark my words - after a week, I believe Dora will be found sleeping with her body wrapped around magical food dispenser, waiting for the reward to appear. I, however, will be sleeping soundly in bed, having dodged a dog's lifetime of responsibility.
Shedding my duties one day at a time...
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