Feeding Time at the Zoo

Cooper and Little Mac have been the source of more than a few blog posts (the former is a pan.tyfreak and the latter in need of an exorcism) but lately they have been a much-needed source of comfort and laughter for us.

Sister, as we have nicknamed Little Mac, has a bit of a split personality issue, a habit of attacking her own ass when she feels stressed out, and a weakness for any sort of people food (if you drop it, she wants it--including raw asparagus and lettuce leaves).  Her personal ad on a dating site would read something like, Deceptively adorable-looking Pek-a-poo with intimacy issues seeks lover who respects boundaries.  Enjoys car rides, popcorn, and Parmesan cheese.  Does not like baths, haircuts, the vacuum cleaner, or unsolicited affection.  Do not f*ck with me or I will bite ur ass.

I destroyed mah bed and I will destroy u.

If Mac is our fighter, then Cooper is our lover.  This dude was born to snuggle and is happiest when he is on the sofa leaning on or lying on top of someone (he's not particular about who it is as long as you're not our mailman).  His personal ad would read, Snuggly Puggle seeks constant companionship with a loving, affectionate, enthusiastic partner who has few personal boundaries and lots of doggie treats.  Enjoys the finest pleasures in life:  eating, sniffing peed-on bushes, rolling in nasty-smelling things, and cuddling afterward.  Hates mailmen, cats with claws, and being bullied by Sister.  Seeks a partner who values loyalty but is open to sharing the love. 

The ladies be crazy 'bout a barrel-chested man with twig-legs. 

I know, our dogs are ridiculous.  But we love them.

Since we've returned from our trip (a week during which the dogs stayed with my parents and terrorized my mom's already-emotionally-fragile cats), I have come to realize that dinner for our dogs has become a ridiculously elaborate exercise in catering to their high-maintenance issues (as I'm sure my parents would agree.) 

To start with, they eat twice a day.  David feeds them when he gets up in the morning, and I feed them again in the afternoon.  Coop gets one scoop in his bowl and one scoop in his treat stick (more on that later).  Mac gets one scoop in her dish. They also they eat two different kinds of food.  Little Mac is eleven years old so she eats food specially made for "mature, small breed" dogs.  She prefers to graze and when she was our only dog, that was fine.  However, Cooper is a bottomless pit whose metabolism does match his appetite.  So we have him on low-calorie diet dog food.  Additionally, we have to keep him occupied while Little Mac eats, or he will wait for her to get distracted and gulp her entire meal in just a couple of bites.

This has resulted in an elaborate procedure that consists of sprinkling Parmesan cheese on Little Mac's food so that she will be interested enough to eat it before Cooper gets a chance (do you know what Parmesan cheese on top of dog food smells like?  Barf + body odor + dog breath.  Ah, what an aroma.) and putting Cooper's serving in a "treat stick" that he has to push around on the floor, rolling it to release one piece of food at a time (No, he likes it!).

(Ignore my voice--why do I have to sound like that when I talk to the dogs?  I swear I don't talk like that in real life.)

Meanwhile, since we have gotten home, Little Mac has suddenly developed a new (and irritating) habit of inexplicably demanding three meals a day instead of two (she's getting nearly 1/2 a cup OVER the daily recommended serving for her weight--and yet she remains so slim!).  This is how she communicates that she wants us to fill her dish:

Believe me, she is incredibly persistent.  I inevitably give in to her demands.

Cheese.  I lurves it. I lurve to lick it off my chin.

I swear these two dogs are total pains in the butt but who could resist those faces? 

I might not have responded to their personal ads, but I would be totally lost without them now.