The fact that our trash compacter doesn’t always close securely is what triggered the following chain of events. Cats get fed twice a day around here. The ‘empties’ – still with some good lickin’ left over – are dumped into the compacter. One of our Dobies ‘Lola’ watches with especial interest, then does something rather odd. It took even the watchful Sabrina some time to pick up on this.
Lola will paw open the ajar compacter door, lift out an ‘empty’ and trot over to one of her pack-mates, return, get another can and ‘serve’ yet another of her pack-mates. Four Dobies, four cans; works out mathematically. She saves the last one for herself. They all lick out the cans with great gusto and satisfaction; high point of the day, that sort of thing.
The other day, as Herself watched Lola make three trips, it all fell into place for her. She securely closed the compacter door. Lola was devastated! All that largess; waiting till last to serve herself, all that philanthropy resulted in her being the only one deprived of a can!
Her look was ‘Advanced Pitiful.’
“You could ruin her for life,” sez I.
Sabrina just looked at me and snarled, evidently regretting a decision she made sixteen years ago: To marry outside her species.
Pore Ol’ Lola!
Pore Ol’ Gahv!
[Don’t worry, Lola got a little treat to repay her benefactions.
Now, don’t ask me how she got it; I know Nuttink!]