I don’t feed my animals until 5 o’clock pm. This is not because I am a stickler for routine. This is because my animals can tell time. They know when it’s dinner time. And they come around asking for it. So, if I move the time earlier, ever, they’re gonna come around earlier to beg. And I don’t want that.
We do have a little challenge those times of year when we have to change the clocks. Nutty tradition. I wonder what animals would say to humans changing time.
So, today they came around at 4:45. And started begging. I told them it wasn’t 5 o’clock yet, and immediately Jimmy Buffet’s song came into my head. Almost like they were telling me it’s 5 o’clock somewhere telepathically.
And then they gave me that it’s-5-o’clock-somewhere look….
Please, mom!
Please mom!
And when I stuck to my guns…
Paaaaleeeeaaaaasssssseeeee Mom!
Because of my hard-heartedness I am now the recipient of dog slobber on my shirt, my skirt, my legs.
But by the time I decided I’d write a blog post about this they were happily munching away at their kibble.
I would end with, “and now it’s time for me to have a beer.” But I don’t drink beer. Kind of wrecks the perfect ending.