I am a dog person. My wife and I have had a dog since we had our first house twenty-one years ago. Our first dog was a beagle mix and we currently have a mix between a Ridgeback and something else. We are not sure of the Ridgeback and only wild guesses at the other. Yes, our current dog is a Karen. (More on that later)
I like petting any dog I come to. Whether a neighbor’s dog or just a stranger in the park dogs like petting them. However, it has come to my attention, they lie to me. As I scratch the head and face, they give me a look like no one has scratched her like that in forever. Arriving at a friend’s house, their beagle approaches me with sad eyes indicating no one in their house paid any attention to him since we last met. I know this to be a lie, but when the sad eyes peer up at me, I have to scratch his head and eventually make my way down his back. It takes a good five minutes before he moves on to the next person with eyes indicating he hadn’t had a good scratch in weeks.
If that was it, I wouldn’t make much of a blog. Come three o’clock every day, our dog sits where the kitchen and living room meet, the center of the house where everyone passes, with hungry eyes of a poor dog not fed in weeks, months, or even years. I know she had breakfast at six in the morning, but that is her story and she sticks to it. My wife says she looks so sad, it reminds her of Sid in the Ice Age movies. We feed her every afternoon at four-ish.
Furthermore, we eat dinner shortly after five and she stares at us like she hadn’t had a complete meal the hour before. You don’t look at her because the big brown eyes woefully spy on you letting you know of her deep hunger of not being feed. It is not just our dog, our friend’s beagle does the same when we eat at their house. Don’t look at dogs while you eat, because they will lie with their hungry eyes trying to get a nibble for themselves.
Did I mention, my dog is a Karen? My furry-faced baby likes going outside anywhere from five minutes from coming in to several hours. She stays outside from one minute to an hour depending on her mood and the weather. I let her out one morning and decide to get dressed since it is sunny and warm. She should be out there for a while. Just as the pajamas come off, I hear scratching at the door. A minute later, she gives a quick “Arf,” to indicate she is ready to come back in. I finish getting ready for the day and another, “Arf,” from the back yard.
Making my way down to her door, I open it expecting to deal with her unmet demands. However, this time Karen stares at me as if to say, “Too late, I don’t want in now,” or “I waited this long, now you can wait.” I go to my computer to do some work and as soon as I sit down, “Arf,” she wants back in again. Not wanting to make the Karen irate again, I hustle down to her.
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