Dear Diary,
4:30 PM: It’s about that time the sun becomes an orangey yellow. Teasers for the upcoming top news stories flash across the TV.
My belly starts to rumble. And well, (cue Dirty Dancing montage):
“I’ve been meaning to tell you, I‘ve got this feeling that won’t subside.
I look at that bag of dog food and I fantasize, you’re mine tonight.
Now I’ve got you in my sights…
With these HANGRY eyes,
One look at you and I can’t disguise
I’ve got HANGRY eyes…”
I digress. Yes, I am a Pug, but many of you can relate to my insatiable hunger for food. Treats, bones, carpet lint, a speck of dirt on the floor–I love food and I don’t discriminate. Who has time to be picky in a world of bacon and beef? I even enjoy my dose of heartworm medication. That’s why when dinnertime hits, I turn into Tom Brady, throw me a bone! GAME ON.
4:40 PM:
You can tell when the first signs of hangry set in. My typical symptoms? It’s different depending on the time of day. Mornings I’m fussier. I will pace around the bed and sit by my parent’s pillows and wait for the perfect time to pounce. But you see, these afternoons, I’ve been waiting and stirring over this moment all day.
-The Stare Down: My eyes become laser pointers burning into your soul.
-Sneezing Fits: I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to not eating. It’s in my genetics. So, when I get overly excited I cannot control my smush face snout from convulsing. I even lick my face post-sneeze so I can catch my sprayed boogies as a light appetizer.
-Licking of Lips: Let’s be real, I’m licking up my drool. The thought of dinner gets me salivating. My tongue morphs into Miley Cyrus on the red carpet.
-Grunts & Whining: Yes I’d like some cheese with my WHINE! You know that scene from Little Shop of Horrors? FEED ME SEYMOUR! That’s me. Thrashing with grunts and annoying cries. Waiting for food is torture.
-Jumping Jacks: It’s what I call my pre-dinner workout. To burn some calories before my chow down, I get my happy feet in motion jumping and stomping. Adrenaline and excitement is key to my svelte physique. Take note, Jillian Michaels.
Pacing: I turn into a mall walker. Up and down the hall I go. Back and forth. My little paws go tap tap tap. Back and forth. The suspense of my dog dish is better than any weekend sale at Macy’s.
5:00 PM:
Then, the big moment comes. My mom opens up the dog food container and pours a heaping scoop in my dog bowl. (I say “heaping,” but I can always handle more. Take note, Ma.) The sound of kibble hitting the metal bowl sends chills up my spine, like it’s a newly released Adele song premiering on the radio for the first time.
5:01-5:02 PM:
I black out.
5:03 PM:
When I awake from my minute of chow down ecstasy, depression sets in. My bowl is empty. It happened so fast. I need to catch my breath–reverse sneezes are the worst!
5:05 PM: I set my plan in motion to get dessert. In dog speak this means table scraps and crumbs. Mom sometimes “accidently” drops bites of her dinner on the floor (wink). Our vacuum is currently in the closet collecting dust. I can handle the clean up juuust fine.
The rest of the night I will move my food coma to the couch and save up my energy for when hangryness sets back in for the morning. 5:30 AM comes quickly and I take pride in waking my parents up before their alarm. Sleep when I’m hangry? I think not.
Until my next entry,
Pugs & Licks,
xoxo
Otis
Hungry for more of my silly adventures? Instagram: @lapuglia
