Thursday, October 20, 2005

he was, like, 99.9% parched.

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last night was a sleepless one at superette. when told that the dog must fast for twelve hours before his dental appointment (don't ask), ann and dabney assumed, okay, no food, no water after 9 pm - no problem. they forgot about the determined will and added cantankerousness that has overcome feidler in old age.

at 4 am, feidler decided he was, indeed, thirsty. and then, you know how some mothers can hear their child hiccup through two walls while wearing earplugs in the middle of the night? well ann and dabney can pick out - blindfolded in a room of running dogs - the sound of feidler's toenails on hardwood floors. it's the kind of noise that makes their whole body tense in anticipation of what is to come.

because when feidler wants something, he paces. tap tap tap. when he wants a bone, he'll walk back and forth in the kitchen for hours just because he knows that the incessant tap tap tap sound will make ann and dabney cave and give him the entire contents of their fridge, just to MAKE THE NOISE STOP. the ONLY thing worse than the tap tap tap is the dreaded wheeze whine. or the disgusting noise he makes when he licks his phantom balls.

but that's another blog entry.

so last night, after pacing around the bedroom for a good ten minutes, he labored up the stairs alone in the darkness. when pushing around his (deliberately empty) water bowl didn't work, and water didn't come cascading forth from the heavens, he paced. tap tap tap. when boring holes into ann and dabney's sleepy skulls with his eyeballs to get their attention (did they know he was thirsty?) didn't work, he paced. tap tap tap. when trying to force the toilet lids open with his snout didn't work, he paced. tap tap tap. finally, dabney got up to find him in the bathroom with one paw on the rim of the tub, shower curtain draped over his head, straining for one. small. drop.

don't think ann and dabney were heartless throughout all this. they called out from bed several times, all sweet-like, that they were sorry that he couldn't have any water. if he could just wait until tomorrow, then he could have all the water that he wanted. beer even. but no amount of reasoning would work on him. like a child, he finally wore himself out and fell asleep, licking his dry chops.

4 comments:

Ashbloem said...

I feel sad.

Anonymous said...

aw, poor pup.

Terra said...

I blame the dentist. Fucker.

Anonymous said...

Poor Feeds!

I had a similar night last night. Diego couldn't eat or drink anything for 12 hours before his surgery this morning. I guess it was pretty heartless of me to eat a delicious piece of toast with peanut butter this morning at 6am on our way to the hospital.