I’ve long suspected that food in this house is being rationed. Specifically, my food is being rationed. The supply of fruit at any one sitting is limited. Mummy tells me there is “no more” but then there is more at the next sitting, without any trips to the shop. Now, I’m smart enough to know that our personal strawberry crop was rubbish this year, so either the fridge grows its own, or I’m being lied to. A white lie, but a fib nonetheless. Ice-cream, sweeties, all the ‘good stuff,’ comes in small portions!
I have it on good authority that dog food is on short supply, too. Hairy Dog and I have decided that enough is enough and action needs to be taken. We thought about some kind of distraction technique whereby I’d keep Mummy busy while he grabbed something from the cupboard, then I’d meet him in the garden when the coast was clear.
The plan was faultless, except for the fact that without opposable thumbs, Hairy Dog was a bit of liability. We reversed roles. HD was going to create a diversion and I would raid the cupboard. He did try, bless him, but he’s cried wolf (or rather, “CAT! CAT! CAT!”) so many times that Mummy just wasn’t falling for it. In the end, I just got up and made a run for the kitchen. I walked with purpose, and no-one realised what was happening till I had lifted the cereal box out and wrenched the lid off.
By tipping the Coco Pops upside down (other breakfast cereals are available) I was able to maximise the opportunity and created a bit of a scramble for me and Hairy Dog. Brilliant! We stuffed our faces. I love it when a plan comes together.
This is us with our spoils!