He is the only sentient being in my house that knows I ate two chocolate old-fashioned donuts while I was supposed to be grocery shopping for healthy stuff like celery and chicken. It wouldn’t even cross his mind to rat me out.
It gets better.
He’s happy for me.
Duuuuuude, you totally scored! Where’d you find ’em, huh? Behind the bush next to the dumpster? Whoa those smell good. You ROCK, mom. I hope I get that lucky.
Wanna play Kill The Fake Squirrel?
No guilt. No secret wondering if this is the start of The Great Chocolate Old-Fashioned Donut Binge of 2011. No projecting how fat that could end up making me, or how bad my arteries will clog. No wondering what psychological stressors drove me to the donut section. No calculating how much psychotherapy it would cost to keep me away from said donut section.
I love my dog. Who else is gonna just be happy for you that you were lucky enough to stuff your face?
I wonder if he’d like maple donuts….