They Get it From Their Mom

So, as most of you probably realize, I do not have children. Because I kind of hate them most of the time. More so I don’t have the patience to listen to another person’s child scream and cry and make loud noises. Because I hate senseless noise. So, instead, I have pets. I have a beagle name Buck, and a cat named Freaka. I love them.

The problem with my pets, is that they seem to have taken on my own love of food. My cat seriously will go through 3 cans of food a day if I would let her. She is only nine freaking pounds (granted she only has three legs, so maybe she would be 9.5 had it not been removed). And she will immediately finish a can of food (which is roughly the size of her head) and immediately come screaming at me for more. She will also help herself to whatever she can find, such as plants, bread, dog food, etc. She will tear open a loaf of bread to get at it. She seriously thinks she is starving to death.

As for Buck, he thinks that anything  Chad and I are eating, he should be eating too. If I happen to drop something on the floor while I am cooking, he is on that shit like white on rice. Even if it is 300 degrees, he will try to eat it like there is no tomorrow. Most of the time he will drop it a couple times after burning his mouth, but if I try to grab it and put it on a paper plate or something to cool off for him (it’s not like I am going to eat it after he has had his mouth all over it, cut me a little slack people) he will snatch it up like it is the last piece of food he will ever see. This dog ate an entire bag of valentine’s day chocolates once… foil and all. Last night, my mom got pizza for me, Chad and a couple of our friends as a thank you for working in the yard. Chad promptly dropped one of the pizzas in the driveway and a piece fell out. Buck happened to find it a few hours later, completely soaking wet, and went to TOWN on that thing. Chad stopped him from licking the pavement for an hour, but for the rest of the night, Buck was completely consumed with the thought of the greasy goodness that could still be found on the driveway.

Moral of the story, this is not MY McFatty Monday, it is definitely that of my pets. Although, arguably, they probably get it from their mom…