Bobby, here. We got a lot of turkey a la king for the full moon the other night. Mrs. D. writes up all this moon stuff it's some big deal, but what they really do when it's full is go to this kind of Irish hofbrau place down by the railroad station and have a drink, and then have another drink, and then get a lot of food, and I'm in storage in her bag under the table and don't get any. Then they pack up the leftover food and drive down to the marina and look at the moon. I still don't get anything to eat, but she lets me out of the bag so I can pee on a few trees.They look at the moon, and they sing the same old song about it, and blather on the way they do. Then we all get in the car and go home.
I finally got leftover turkey a la king for dinner yesterday. This morning, I had to make a bit of a scene, but scored some more for breakfast. Tonight she mixed the last of it up with the dumb old kibble, so I had to pick through to get the good stuff, and leave the slimy bits of kibble in a heap on the floor beside my dish.
I realize that you can more or less survive on that kibble if you have to, but it's pretty weird how she thinks I can't tell the difference.
