In response to my strike, my mom went to the vet and got a new type of canned dog food. It’s supposed to better match my needs and keep my digestive system from getting upset. Isn’t that what every worker dog wants?
First, I checked out the can:
Looks harmless enough. I’m willing to give anything a try. Here goes nothing:
It started off well enough, but I soon had to employ my tactic of “get a mouthful, spit it out, lick off the good stuff”. Hey, before you get all “Eewww, that is SO gross”, keep in mind I don’t have a knife and fork. I can’t slice off what doesn’t appeal to me and push it to the side of the plate. I’m just working with what I’ve been given.
Here’s the aftermath:
So I guess I’m still kind of on strike. Not that I’m going to let myself starve or anything (don’t tell Mom). All this could be ended with one simple ingredient that starts with B, ends with N and rhymes with makin’.
Updates to follow. I love you!