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Do you like Lamb and Vegetables? I sure don’t. I’ll eat it for dinner only if I have to, and that means begging from mom or dad while they are eating their dinner. They hate for me to beg, but when I have Lamb and Vegetables, I’m desperate.

There is an art to begging, you know. If you go about it just right, you will get whatever you want from the humans. But, it is like anything else, you have to practice, practice, practice, and practice until you, as an individual, find what works. Take me, for instance, I have a different tactic for each of my humans.

For dad, all I have to do is get in Hilde’s chair, lay my head on the arm of his chair (he eats in the TV room), and he will give me whatever he is having. He has meat for dinner. Although he has vegetables, too, I don’t much care for them.

Mom, on the other hand, is a tougher nut to crack. Hey, I know I’m spoiled, but I found a way to get her to give me what she is eating (she eats in the same room as dad). She prefers vegetables, so that is what she eats most of the time unless she has legumes; then she eats cornbread with her dinner. I really do love cornbread, and I try and get some of it when I can. Anyway, she eats on the couch, and I calmly and cautiously get on the opposite end of the couch. I lie down where my head is towards her, but I don’t do anything but stare for a while. I pretend I have to change positions, but I don’t; I just edge a little closer to her. (She doesn’t eat very fast, and I have plenty of time to maneuver into position.) Then I stretch (with my feet against the arm of the couch) and that puts me right where I want to be. Here comes the part where I win: I roll over on my back, look at her upside down, and just sorta groan a little bit. All this time I know mom is watching me, and she knows what I am doing. It’s kinda like working for your food, although dogs like me shouldn’t have to work. At any rate, the rolling over part is what always gets mom–she gives in like I knew she would.

For Paul, all I have to do is to sit in front of him and look pitiful. That tactic always works with him. He eats potato chips every night after dad goes to bed, and I always get some. Anyway, I need a midnight snack. Chips are not too heavy or too light, and I like them. I wonder how long you have to do a certain thing before it becomes a ritual.