By Bruin, canine guest blogger
For those of you who are not already aware, for the last 2½ months I have been on a diet. My parents and my weight loss warden, Dr. Brooks, keep telling me I should not think of it as a diet but rather as a healthier way of eating. I think they forget sometimes that though I display an inordinate amount of brain cells, I am, after all a dog and find that concept disconcerting and unreasonable.
I do remember vaguely back in the day when my family would ask if I’d like a “treat” and then turn around and give me a dog bone. I felt like Hannibal Lector since only he would want to eat the bones of other dogs. (Please don’t tell Mom and Dad because I’m not allowed to watch those kinds of things but when they leave the room, I “accidentally” roll over on the remote and change the channel.)
Dr. Brooks also suggested that I keep a food diary because little items seem to add up so quickly calorie-wise. You’d think with all the examinations he’s given me, he would have noticed I don’t have any thumbs but thank goodness, at least I do have access to a computer. My having to “watch my weight” bothers my Mom and Dad so much more than me because like so many others, they equate love with food. When I go in periodically to get weighed, they always hold their breath and advise me to only stand on one paw.
My much older (counting in dog years) two-legged siblings are actually quite jealous and insist they were never regarded with the same devotion afforded me. They must think that cooking for me daily and serving my water chilled is not an entitlement. The nerve of them to count the number of times I go to the vet and compare it to the number of times they were taken to the pediatrician! Not for publication is also the fact that my Mom carries around pictures of me and none of her children/grandchildren.