So, my brother decided to tell me that he decided to pee blood on a flight to Montreal. He claims he decided to do this in protest of his recent lithotripsy on a horrific kidney stone he decided to grow in his kidney (please note that my use of the word ‘decided’ is a decidedly pathetic literary device far removed from the truth). He then decided to take a pain medicine tablet containing oxycodone and decided to get drowsy and decided to stop chatting on his newly installed Google chat.
And so I’ve decided to stop waiting in front of Google chat, expecting him to tell me more about his kidney stone and stent. In fact, I’ve decided to take Monty out for a walk behind the building so Monty can decide to pee and poop in the snow that seems to have decided to appear in Toronto.
I decided to play kibble hockey with Monty earlier this evening. We have a new game. Kibble hockey started with me feeding him by hand because he'd started on diet kibble to reduce his weight because he couldn't walk his weight off because of the surgery on his knee. He didn't like his new diet kibble and refused to eat it. He just sat by his dish giving us dirty looks. Well, so I started by hand-feeding him, but then I thought I’d make it exciting and throw a piece of kibble down the hallway towards him as he sat in aloof judgment of the kibble. After a few tosses, he took the bait and crunched the kibble. Well, once he crunches one, as they say, he can't stop. Just like Pringles.
So we do this for a few evenings. He seems to enjoy it. After a while I progress to throwing a few pieces at once, just to see him dance about in sheer excitement and giddy happiness. He likes that. He really enjoys that. Well, so while he's standing around scooping up and crunching down on all those kibble pieces, I decided to return to my office just around the wall from the hallway.
And then a few nights ago, a minute or so after the crunching had stopped, and I'd returned to my office, it was dead quiet in the hallway. And then suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue, came a singular, resounding, impetuous squeak. A loud, irritated squeak. I jumped up from my chair to see what had happened. Kibble-had-stopped was what happened. He was sitting at the end of the hall looking quite put-out. So I threw a few more pieces and he joyfully started chomping down again. Well, that's repeated itself over the last few evenings. He won't eat unless we play kibble hockey. That’s what happens when you get sneaky and try to trick your dog into eating.
No good deed goes unpunished.