I tell Diane it’s because I’m building his character, his strength. I want to make a man out of my dog, even if he *is* missing some parts.
When I leave for work this week, Patch goes into my bathroom with the door closed. With all the construction going on downstairs, it’s the safest place for him. Of course, that jogged me out of my morning routine, so sometimes I forget some of the little things. Like feeding Patch.
It’s only Tuesday, I think. Seems like he just ate a few days ago. I have to do this daily?
The living room was thoroughly demolished with holes in the ceiling and pink string dangling. I had to sort out the surround sound wiring for installation tomorrow, which meant I had to run to Best Buy and get two Bose cube ceiling mounts. Man, they’re proud of those things, $30 each.
Diane picked up some Chinese dumplings with some fortune cookies for dinner, but since Best Buy was going to close, she had to eat it in the car. Got the brackets, headed back home. On top of the kitchen island was a single fortune cookie. I know there were two there when we left.
I look at the two dogs. Bella wags her tail happily. Patch bolts outside. Aha, there’s the guilty party. I pick up the used cookie wrapper off the floor and get back to my wiring. Patch eventually comes back inside and starts eating sheet rock. Crunch crunch crunch.
I look at Patch. Diane looks at me. “When did you last feed him?” she asks.
“Feed him?” Oh yeah. No, I’m trying to build his character. Food is for little sissy dogs. Macho dogs eat sheet rock. Yeah, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

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