Having a pair of dogs is like having two hyperactive footstools that move around with the speed and precision of a couple of large, blind rabbits. Even when they’re not actively moving, they’re milling around like teenagers at a McDonalds, or conveniently sleeping somewhere directly in whatever path you may take. They’re not particularly messy, but Moving with the Herd is something that I still cannot always get used to.
This is what a trip to the kitchen is like, on a Saturday while making lunch:
Dogs: Is she going to get up? AHA! She’s moving! I shall trundle along aside thee, O Joy of my Face, because you are going to the room with the food box! Dogs, I LOVE the food box! This is SO AWESOME I might PUKE! Oh wait, that was just a loud cough. But wait – what’s she doing? WATER? I LOVE WATER! THAT IS SO UTTERLY COMPLETELY MIND-BLOWING! Wait… what now? What’s that? SHE’S GOT A CRINKLY THING! OH MY GOD IT’S CRINKLING! But what is it. She’s putting it into a round thing… A BOWL! Is it FOR ME? Not for me, okay, okay… It’s… it’s CHIPS! CHIPS CHIPS CHIPS CHIPS CHIPS CHIPS CHIPS CHIPS CHIPS CHIPS CHIPS CHIPS CHIPS!!! *wild dancing and bowing* She’s giving it to the other human. Dammit. His Sourness never gives us any chips. But she’s traipsing back into the room with the food box! What’s that? OH MY GOD LUNCHMEATTTTTTTTTT!!!! I am going to die if you don’t give me any lunchmeat! I will surely perish, right here on this floor, see my ribs stick out, my hopeful glance, oh maiden of the meat, PLEASE GIVE ME THAT TURKEY! See, I will dance for you, I will *nom nom nom nom!*”
It’s a never-ending super-fantastic adventure with them.