My friend Marie has gone on a trip to Idaho because her first grandchild is going to arrive any day now. Since her husband, Thayne, will be out of town for several days on business, I am hanging out with their dog, Bowie. I have written about Bowie before. He is a very sweet and friendly dog who loves his MyKatrina, as he calls me. When I first arrived at about midday today, I could see the relief on his face and in the way he scampered around the house. "MyKatrina is here! I'm going to survive!"
We went to run some errands and get my things from home before I arrived at Chateau Bowie at about three-thirty this afternoon. It didn't take long before I learned something new about this big goofy dog. As he gets older, he finds it more difficult to get used to the end of Daylight Savings Time. I don't remember our little Paris ever having any problems with it; she wasn't focused so much on when she might be eating as when we might be eating. Even though she always had a dish of kibble on hand, she held out the hope that she might be able to eat some of what we were eating. And she seemed to believe that whenever Mommy went into the kitchen, something very delicious would result.
On the other hand, Bowie seems to be tortured by the setting of the sun. Through the Spring, Summer, and much of the fall, he has had his dinner and gotten comfortable long before the sun sets. With the return to Standard time and the days growing shorter, his dinner time of six-thirty is falling well past sunset. I think it causes him anxiety. Where is his food? Why is his stomach rumbling after the sun has gone down? As I sat on the sofa with my tablet in hand, Bowie came up and placed his head on my lap. His eyebrows were moving around just like his whirling thoughts. "MyKatrina," he said, "did you forget to feed me? It's getting dark outside! It's almost bedtime!"
I had to laugh out loud. "Bowie, it just isn't time yet. You have to wait for two more hours." A look of panic came onto his face. "But I'm staaaarving, MyKatrina! I can't even hold my head up any more!" This went on and on, with him making trips to the kitchen to see if I had by any chance teleported there while he had his eyes closed and filled his dish. I lasted until almost six-fifteen. I tried to be hardcore. But those eyes, so sad. And the drool, so damp on the leg of my jeans.
That pretty much sums up today's adventures with Bowie. I guess I'll amble on into the kitchen. After all that food talk, I'm starving!