I was attempting to be too productive this morning, when his bowl slipped out of my hand.  For breakfast, he gets a third of a cup of kibble and half of a hard boiled egg.  Nothing very sticky.

Sparky’s poise and judgment surprised me again.

It wasn’t dramatic.  I was bending over when the bowl dropped.  The half-egg remained intact.

I wasn’t vexed or frustrated.  Sparky loves snuffling around, foraging for grub.  That’s the point of the snack pit. 

I could step back, give the “Sparky Eat” command, and the problem solves itself.

Sparky was faced with a dilemma. 

Our morning routine has been previously posted.  Sparky varies the routine more than I do.  He may still be in bed, lounging somewhere, or hectoring Mr. Moose.  Rather than issue a chow call, I prep his food.  He hears or smells something and comes around.

This morning, Sparky was coming into the solarium as the bowl dropped.  Sparky stopped, and tried to look nonchalant.  He studied these two snack pit balls like they were the most interesting thing he’d seen all day.

Because Sparky is my spirit animal, I know what he was thinking.

“Floor food!  I should rush in like a hungry, hungry hippo.  Wait, Animal Planet says that people don’t like hippos because they are dangerous.  Better think this through.”

“Maybe.”

“Admiral Ackbar was right about so many things, but we’re watching The Expanse because Disney Star Wars sucks.  Probably not a trap.”

“He might still be drunk from that beer last night.  He can’t blame me for that, I glared at him as hard as my adorable beagle face would allow.”

“Whatever he’s got planned, I’m not taking the rap.”

Sparky would have walked away, whistling, with his hands in his pockets if he had hands, pockets and could still whistle.  Instead, he backed off to see what happened next.

Being a student of human nature and a veteran teacher, I knew that Sparky needed to see that the whole house of cards was not collapsing.  Somebody had to know what was going on.  Decisive leadership was required, so I stepped up.

I grabbed the bowl, put those two croquet balls back inside with the half-egg, and got him a new scoop of kibble.  Then I called him to eat, and walked away like this was the contingency plan.

Sparky ate everything he could find.  He got an extra scoop of food today, but who cares?  Sparky always says that he’s starving to death, so maybe he will shut up for a while.

Sparky once showed me his ribs to prove how malnourished he was.  What he showed me was a leg bone from a rabbit, and there was still some fur on it.