Gravy’s good with the damn kibble. But not as good as mint chocolate chip.

I know you’re all thinking he’s spoiled. He isn’t. I don’t give him the remains of my meals. My wife does the handoff.

What’s happening is more serious than spoiled. He’s decided the missus and me are his pack. He thinks the other dogs are just dogs and the cats are just noisemakers. Since he seems to understand most of what we say it’s hard to tell him he’s wrong. We’ve been unguarded in our discussions of other animals.

Why he now eats under the brocade parson’s chair and plays footsy with my wife when he isn’t trying to rest his huge head in my lap.

The other day I did give him a portion of Chex Mix to convince him to finish his damn kibble. Carelessly sprinkled it over the top. Response? He fished out every one of the pretzel sticks, spread them all over the floor, then ate his damn dinner, including all the Chex Mix. As it turned out, the pretzel sticks were dessert. Eaten last and lovingly.

Now tell me how much smarter you would be with him than we are.

P.S. I don’t eat mint chocolate chip. That’s something between Raebert and my wife. I think it’s a step too far in the world of ice cream.