Saturday With Shutter – Ho Ho Humbug
On Saturday I thought I was going to be forced to call an emergency pack meeting over an alarming turn of events with my human servant. It all started around 4pm. The dinner hour had commenced at the appointed time and consisted of the typical gruel for which I have now become accustomed with but one twist, there was less of it. At first I thought it was just me. But upon closer examination I noted that no, there is clearly more empty space in my bowl than there should have been. I peered at sister Reese’s bowl and then to brother Porthos and both contained the usual generous helpings. It was only mine that had been lessened. I tossed my servant a head cocked glance of puzzlement whose meaning he saw was crystal clear, “Okay human, what gives? I just saw you earlier taking a photo of all that food in the cabinet and mumbling something about the “Zombie Apocalypse”. And that’s not counting the two and a half 17lb bags of dry food in the closet.”
“I’m sorry Shutter”, he said, “but it’s getting cold outside and you are not as active as you were this Summer. If I keep feeding you these big meals you are going to get fat. You don’t want that do you?” “Fat?” I thought. “FAT!”, my massive brain almost screamed. “Human! You do realize I am part Jack Russel, right? I have enough energy that if you give me a treadmill and a generator and I could power a small city!” I followed up this line of inquiry with two additional questions, “Why then human, is Reese and Porthos bowl not just as equally reduced? Do you not fear they will get fat as well? What semi intelligent answer do you have for that? You do understand I am the “Pack Leader” here, right? That there is a hierarchical structure in place you simply do not have the authority to challenge.”
“Shutter,” he said apologetically, “Reese and Porthos are still growing puppies where as you are an adult now. They need a little more food until they get big like you.”
Of course Reesee and Porthos were oblivious to this entire exchange choosing to focus entirely on their own fare and not the least bit concerned with my personal dietary restrictions. I therefore consumed my meager dinner and vowed not to suffer this indignity lightly. Whilst my human servant was occupied with cleaning the bowels I stole back to what functioned as and office/storage room determined to supplement my less than generous meal by chewing the little plastic tips off of all his shoelaces.
As I entered the room and made straight for the open closet door I noted that one of the many cardboard boxes my human servant stored here had been recently opened. Being the ever curious pup that I am, I simply had to peek inside to see what treasures it contained. I found resting in the top a large leather bound tome about eight inches by ten inches written by a guy named Dickens. Using my large perfectly formed paws and ample saliva I began to peruse the pages. Don’t kid yourselves humans, the opposable thumb is overrated.
Giving you just the “Cliff Notes” here, the book in general was about a bitter old man named Ebeneezer Scrooge whom it seemed did not much like anyone or anything. And he was especially not fond of the Holiday Season like the one we are now about to enter. As I was reading, and it was on about page 67 I think, that two men came to Mr. Scrooges Counting House seeking donations for the Poor. “It is at this time of year”, they said, “that hunger and want are most keenly felt.”
It was here that I had a sort of an epiphany. You see, for the last few weeks my human servant seemed to have been stockpiling canned and other nonperishable food stuff on the rarely used dining room table. At first I thought this was simply another one of his delusions like the previously a fore mentioned “Zombie Apocalypse”. But then I realized that nobody needs nineteen cans of whole kernel corn, eleven cans of green beans, and an unknown number of boxed food stuff. Though I would not consider our little pack to be affluent by any measure of the word, still, he found the time to shop around buying things on sale not for his benefit, but for the benefit of those less fortunate.
I closed the book and slid it back into the box from whence it came. I determined that for now at least, I would leave his shoe laces intact. That perhaps, just perhaps, I should give him the benefit of the doubt in this case. At least I have, where others have not. My portions may not be large, but they are always there. And my human servant may not be perfect, but, well, I think I’ll keep him.
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