Dog Food

Okay, so you've just read the title, and you're a little wierded out.  "'Dog Food?'" you exclaim, slightly worried.  "This won't be some metaphorical nonsense about a dog, I hope.  Metaphorical dogs are overrated," you say, as you suddenly harbor silent doubts as to exactly what "metaphorical" means and if you used it correctly.

Fear not, dear reader!  (Yes, I just called you "dear."  You got this far, an endearing term is justified.  Hug?)  I do actually have a story regarding dog food, y'know, those little dried kernels that domesticated dogs are commonly fed by their owners for sustenance.

Okay, now onto my story.

I should preface this by saying that my baby sister, Kiara, likes to eat the dog's (Holly's) food.  I joke that they have an agreement: they share each other's food.  When Kiara is up in her highchair or wandering around the house, she'll share with Holly, and Holly in turn lets Kiara eat out of her dog bowl.

My mom was in the laundry room the other day (that's where Holly's food and water bowls are, as well as her bed) doing something with the laundry.  I don't think she was folding it; she was probably sorting it or moving it from washer to dryer or something.  Exactly what Mom was doing with the laundry is besides the point.

Anyway, as Mom was working with the laundry, she heard some rustling, the kind of rustling that is characteristic of Kiara poking around in the dog food.  So, my Mom tells Kiara to stop.  And the rustling stops.

And then a few minutes later, it starts again.  Mom turns to find that Kiara is back.

With a spoon.