Antelope

Gilly: STARVING

Me: I fed you early. Before I left.

Gilly: STARVING. SUPPER. THREE AND A HALF HOURS LATE.

Me: Honey, I remember it clearly. I was there. I fixed it for you. With applesauce and cheese.

Gilly: NEGLECTED

Me: Don’t you remember? I gave it to you before I went out. At 4:30.

Gilly: DOESN’T COUNT IF IT’S NOT PRECISELY AT 6PM

Me: You don’t remember?

Gilly: LIKE IT NEVER HAPPENED

Me: You don’t need another supper, my friend.

Gilly: *tragic expression*

Gilly: *stamps foot*

Gilly: *pokes cookie jar with his nose*

Me: *gives Gilly cookies*

* * *

Eventually, I cave in and give him a handful of kibble in his regular bowl for emotional reasons (his), because clearly he spent the evening lying in bed (mine) weak from hunger waiting for me to return from hunting on the Serengeti—and then I had the gall to come home with nothing but a small bite of marshmallow rice crispy treat for him.

Some time passes.

* * *

Gilly: *comes over to the computer-chair, pokes my leg*

Gilly: STILL STARVING

Me: Dude. You’re not starving. You had supper at 4:30, then you had a taste of marshmallow treat and some liver cookies and a handful of kibble and a bite of my cheese sandwich. NOT. STARVING.

Gilly: *sits, ponders this itemized list for some time, staring at the ceiling and moving his eyebrows around a lot – comes to the conclusion that he is, in fact, still starving, gives me the patented Look of Woe*

Me: Oh my god you are over the top! Get a grip!

Gilly: *pokes cookie jar*

Gilly: *pokes cookie jar*

Gilly: *pokes cookie jar repeatedly until I start laughing*

Gilly: *acquires more cookies*

* * *

Some more time passes.

He puts his chin on my mouse-hand and gazes hopefully up at me from beneath batting lashes whilst wagging his tail very, very hard.

What this is really about is my going out without him.

Students, schmudents. End of semester events: bah.

They don’t have eyelashes like this. And they’re not as HUNGRY.

* * *

I decide to take him for a moonlight stroll, lest he Cupid me to death.

* * *

There’s no moon. It’s pouring. After approximately 30 seconds outside:

Gilly: RAINING. MAKE IT STOP. COLD. WANT TO GO IN.

* * *

Inside:

Gilly: MORE TOWELING. TOWELING IS FUNNY.

I towel him ferociously, and am rewarded with much giggling.

Me: I love you, Gilly.

Gilly: THEN HOW COME YOU NEVER BRING ME AN ANTELOPE?

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One response to “Antelope

  1. Pingback: The Trouble With Kibbles | Gilgablog

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