The Snack Police

I'm living with the Snack Police. BC (Before Cora), I used to snack fairly frequently on these little string cheese logs. I enjoyed pulling them into strips and prolonging their taste by eating them slowly. Then came Cora. Guess who else loves string cheese?

She loves cheese so much that giving her pills is a snap. While she was recovering from the pitbull attack, I'd just stuff her pills into a little cheese and down the hatch it went - no fuss, no struggles, just a happy dog and a satisfied nurse.

It is impossible for me to sneak one of these out of the fridge if she's anywhere in the house. Even if she misses the opening of the refrigerator door, she hears the zip of the package pulling apart from three rooms away. I swear she can hear it when she's outdoors with the door shut. She's there in a flash, skidding to a halt on the kitchen tile and sitting as if her butt is glued to the floor, ears perked forward hopefully. "See what a good dog I am?," she seems to be saying, "Don't I deserve a treat?" Well, shit, yes, she does. So, there goes my snack, string by string down her eager throat. She seems hardly to taste them - I really think her nose does the tasting before it ever hits her tongue. Sometimes, I sneak one of the strings for myself but her reproachful stare is more than my conscience can bear, so she usually gets the whole thing.

Yesterday, she was out in the car with My Beloved, which she loves to do more than just about anything. Yep, I stole into the kitchen and ate an entire one ounce portion all by myself, without the Snack Police drooling on my shoes.