Thank goodness what I did wasn't an unforgivable sin. When I walked out and saw Elsa staring at me through the back door, looking hopeful and anxious, I was only thirty minutes late with dog dinner. She still loves me, once I dashed outside to make up for it, but she absolutely refused to be still for a picture while I stood within five feet of the food bag. She did completely lose her manners and try to eat out of Murray's bowl, twice even. She knows better, but she must have scrambled her brain a bit while she danced for me.
And on that note, I don't give Murray enough credit for how much he wants to act like an able-bodied dog. He spends most of his time in wheels, which is really cute at meal time. If he could, he would hop around like a baby goat on his way to his food bowl, but the wheels don't leave the ground as he prances across the yard. His enthusiasm is still unmistakable. Even when he is not wheeled up, but rather on the ground, his version of normal dog movements is perfectly recognizable, yet totally unique.
This evening, while Elsa was running off, practically doing cartwheels in the yard, Murray was doing his own dinner dance. He spun in circles to tell me how hungry he was. But you have to picture it: he sat on his right hip, legs kind of poking out forward, just left of center, crossed awkwardly. He pushed off hard with his front feet, and pirouetted more than 180 degrees before he pushed again to complete the spin. He went around two full turns while I tried not to drop the food and water, laughing. Oh, to have had my camera ready, video recording, at that point.
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