The "Rite Of Cheese"

Lately I've been concerned that my dog may not be getting enough cheese. It is a valid concern as he does love his cheese but is unable to get any on his own. He does, therefore, have to rely upon me for his daily dose of the beyond curdled milk. We are both getting old and neither one of us is doing so gracefully. The little old dude is going on eleven years old and is deaf as a post. These days it takes him several tries to get up into the recliner with me, and I'm not supposed to bend, down like I would have to, in order to assist him in his endeavor to join me in the lap of reclining luxury. What does this have to do with my dog's relative cheese consumption? Nothing that I can think of other than it is more polite than talking about his undependable bodily functions which tend to be dependable in their undependableness.

Perhaps I should be concerned as to whether or not I am getting enough cheese. I do love cheeeeese Gromit! Besides, it is when I have cheese that the doggie gets his; cheese, that is. I buy the New York Extra Sharp cheese in oblong block form. I slice off about eight moderately thin slabs with Woody looking in on intently. Woody is the dog. He is part Miniature Collie and part Jack Russell Terrier which makes him a hybrid Kangaroo Rat. He may act the aging cripple when trying to climb into my lap but, when there is cheese in the offing, he will bounce as high as my chest until the cheese is offered; and I'm six one. Then the cheese ritual moves to the living room where I sit in either my recliner or in my computer desk chair.

With one paw on my knee and ears all agog, the old pup watches each bite I take. I take two bites out of every piece and Woody gets the remaining third of a piece; which he seems to swallow whole. To each his own way of enjoying cheese, I always say. I draw this activity our for about ten minutes until the last crumb is consumed. I show Woody that my hands are really and for truly empty of the last vestiges of deliciousness; and once convinced that I'm not holding anything out on him, he goes for a long lap at the water bowl. (I don't mean "lap" as in swimming, but "lap" as in to drink with tonge flung down into the water for to scoop.) Following that is the invariable conclusion of the "Rite Of Cheese." After his long water lap, he successfully climbs into my lap, on the first try, (oh, my) for a long nap in my lap.

Sad though it may seem, this is often the highlight of both of our days. Life is tough for old dogs like us; eat cheese, sleep, and successfully perform appropriate bodily functions. Hopefully in a dependable manner.