Today, Ray was whiny. And underfoot. And bad. After listening to him whine ALL DAY LONG, and then finding that he had stolen a can of cat food off the counter and eaten it in the front hall, I had had it. I tried coming up with a credible explanation for Ray's untimely death after defenestration.
There was a fox on the roof and Ray, not knowing that it was a roof, had jumped through the window and chased it only to run off the edge and crash to the ground. Or maybe, there was a cat fight on the roof and Ray, thinking his Moonie was being attacked, jumped through the window and tried to save her only to fall off the edge and crash to the ground; a horribly sad, premature ending to a brave hound. Or the ever popular, "I don't know what happened. He was like this when I got home."
After coming up with three pretty good excuses, I realized that maybe Ray was whining and bad because he was hungry. He's been on boiled chicken and rice that last couple of days because of another case of Delhi belly. Maybe he was feeling better and just needed something to eat. I gave him the remainder of a can of dog food. He ate it, curled up on Gregg's chair, and went to sleep.
Now I feel bad. And the worst part is, I know that cat food isn't going to agree with him, and he will be right back on chicken and rice for another couple of days. (sigh)