A Typical Sunday

There’s a stink-eye stare down going down at our house.  It is between Lola and me.  Before I get into that, a little background…

Yes, this is what awaits me on the weekends.

My husband makes me breakfast on Sunday and often Saturday mornings.  He makes eggs, hash browns, bacon, toast and coffee.  I have to admit, I love it when he indulges me like that.

Also, I LOVE bacon or as my husband calls it “freedom meat.”

Today, there were some um.... issues making breakfast.

First, my husband sustained his first cooking injury by slicing his finger… with a butter knife.  I know, I didn’t think it was possible either.  Then he dropped all the hash browns on the floor as he was pulling them out of the oven.  This effectively doubled the amount of time to make breakfast.  Yet, I am grateful and patient so I nibbled on some bacon and sipped on coffee.

Did I mention how much I LOVE bacon?

Meanwhile, the dogs have their own ritual while we cook/bake.   

Is it possible for you to accidentally drop some of that
tasty bacon down here?

Rampage sits dutifully in front of the stove out of attention seeking behavior and hope that food hits the floor.   

Are you making breakfast?
Whatever.

Nefi either lies on the couch or heads upstairs to sleep on the bathroom rug but when she hears the oven fan kick on, she almost always heads up.  (I think she knows that there’s a chance for the smoke alarm to go off and she hates that)  Today, she opted for upstairs.   

If you catch the kitchen on fire, please let me know.
God knows I don't trust the smoke alarm since you
set it off about twice a week.

Lola… the minute you walk into the kitchen, she runs for the bedroom.  She HATES being downstairs while we cook and I’m honestly not sure why.

No matter, breakfast was ready... I will admit that I eat in the most bizarre manner.  I sample everything on my plate and decide what is my favorite.  Then I eat in a pattern where I'm going to have at least 2 bites of my favorite left to finish my meal.  Yes, I have issues.  

Have you guessed what is the last thing on my plate for breakfast?  I'll give you a hint... IT'S BACON!

Since Rampage stays downstairs, he usually gets a couple of treats thrown his way.  Nefi somehow knows when I’ve sat down to eat and will run down to take her place next to me on the couch or sits at my feet.  Lola always seems to come in at the tail-end of brunch.  She tends to forget that, although the process of cooking seems to scare her, the end result is yummy food.  She joined us while I had only a half-hash brown and my final piece of bacon left on my plate.

The pugs are really good about not trying to get any food without “asking” first.  However, Lola was rescued from a hoarder’s house.  She is adept at sneaky food, treats, toys… whatever she can get when no one is looking.

So I was savoring my final bites of food on my plate.  The piece of bacon was waiting for me and I couldn’t wait.  The pugs were next to me and I didn’t even notice Lola sidling up next to them.  As I was lifting the last bite of hash brown to my mouth, Lola turned her head sideways, snuck around Rampage who was mere inches from my plate and not even thinking about taking food off of my plate, and grabbed the bacon.

My glorious piece of bacon.  Have I mentioned how much I LOVE bacon?  I believe my shriek sounded something like this… Nooooooooooooo!

Holy crap dude!  That was AMAZING!
But next time, can you grab us a piece!

Lola reacts to yelling.  I’m guessing that her previous owners, when they did interact with her in the hoarded mess, probably scared her a lot, so she did drop it.  The pugs stood in horror and then gave a look of admiration.  It takes balls to steal food off of their mommy’s plate and taking her bacon?  Cripes, that could almost be a death sentence.

My husband jumped up and grabbed the bacon off the floor.  Luckily, there was still another piece left, but still the damage had been done.  I was angry and Lola had a lot of apologizing to do.  Lola is as stubborn as I am though.  The apologizing wasn’t going to come easy, especially since I upset her with my yelling.

You want ME to say I'M sorry?
Suck it!

Hence, the stink-eye stare down.

Luckily, the voice of reason, my husband, convinced me to loosen up on the stink-eye.  He began making excuses for poor Lola:

She’s lashing out since Christmas Monkey is dying.

The pugs were teasing her with their bacon-breath.

The pugs told her she could just take a piece off my plate.

Once I lessened up my steely gaze, Lola began to look more pathetic.  Her little ears fluctuating between standing up straight and slicked against her head.

Okay, maybe I shouldn't have taken the bacon.

C'mon, you know you still love me.

I love you mommy.  **kisses**

It’s almost impossible to stay mad at this face.