For this, I must first explain the pet situation.
The dog hangs out on a lead-run outside during the day when no one's here, sleeps in the basement, and is usually brought in the house once a couple of people are home. This is mostly because he's very much a people-dog. Has to be around people. Loves people. He has no concept of guarding ANYTHING. If you are a person, you
must be there to play with him. He's very much Didi's dog - Mom will comment that in the eyes of the dog, Didi is God. Somewhat sacrilegious, but almost captures the situation.
He misses her terribly because she's up at school. Normally, when she's home, he follows her
everywhere around the house, and half the time sleeps in her room.
The cats belong to my other sister. They are completely different personalities - one fat, sleepy, and purrsy, the other skittish, predatory, and often antisocial. Of course they're from the same litter. Given their tendency to mark when no one's looking, the cats are NOT allowed in the house. Santas' room is a very gray area, on that subject. She'll haul one up when she's napping, and the cat sleeps on the bed with her.
So, last night, we had our usual late-night arrangement. She's sitting on her bed with her laptop, I am sitting on the bed chatting with her, enjoying a nice warm cup of tea, and the dog is lying on the floor, regarding us with big plaintive eyes for any morsel of affection we might inadvertently drop to the ground. Santas regards my cup and saucer, then turns her gaze of interest (this never bodes well) to the dog, and then to her half-finished bowl of strawberry gelato. When I'd first come in, said pup was very interested in my cup of tea, despite numerous assurances on my part that, no, he really didn't want this.
Santas then proceeds to take my saucer (as I'd finished with the teabag, it was making a little brown crescent-puddle on one side of the plate), add a teaspoon of gelato next to the teabag...and feed it to the dog.
Yes, he ate the teabag. I stared at her, struck absolutely dumb for a few seconds, as she collapsed deeper into herself, giggling with satisfaction. "You are
never allowed to have a dog in the future!"
Cats are far more finicky. Cats will not eat anything that smells remotely suspicious, like broccoli, dish detergent, or cat food. The chances of my sadistic little sister successfully feeding a teabag to a cat are far reduced. A good thing, to, as the feline digestive system is far more finicky than a dog's.
I'm not overly concerned about the dog. They'll try anything, and God knew this when he made them, so he gave them a digestive system that'll process almost anything. The only time we've ever really worried was when he got loose and got into rat poison. I've a friend with a giant labrador, and if she wasn't so busy, she could post a weekly blog, "What Will Duke Eat?". Newspaper. Ten pounds of dog food (that's like you eating sixty pounds of steak). Three rolls of toilet paper. A sponge (that one had us a little worried. It was one of the big soft foofy kinds - second cousin to a loofah).
While I'm writing this, the house phone rings.
It's Santas.
In her bedroom.
(This is across the living room and just up the stairs from where I am now.)
Asking me to bring her a cat.
Because she doesn't want to get up.
*facepalm*
kitty
