I have done it. Finally. Heretofore I would turn up my nose (such as it is) at any “treat” other than cheese, meat, fish, chicken or a Dentastyx. And I am nearly 10 years in human terms. In recent weeks, however, my mistress hume has dangled vanilla ice cream and yellow cake in front of me. I know she knows she shouldn’t, but she has definitely bought into the current ethos that canines, especially pugs, are sentient, feeling beings. Of course, we always have been and some humes of higher intellect have known this, but now it has become de rigueur for the masses… .
At any rate, the ice cream and the cake were so delightful I could not restrain myself. I slurped and nearly gagged on their scrumptiousness. Every morsel I consumed like a starving beast. Now what? I’ve opened the proverbial Pandora’s box or can of worms or whatever, and there’s no going back. There is only one foreseeable outcome: She and I will grow old and fat–but happy–together. Word.