Small bites

The vet told me not to give Holly human food but I just cant resist It. There is a deep down vicarious pleasure I get in spoiling her with the good stuff. 

She stands at attention before my plate , holding dead still, like a pointer in the presence of a bird. If I let her at it she will ingest it all in under two seconds, barely chewing or tasting it, and then I resent her for not appreciating the gift. 

If I am going to spoil her with human food then I must find a way to make her to enjoy it like a civilized human, and thereby draw more pleasure out of my role as the benevolent master.

Both Holly and I love cheese, and she is keenly alert to sound of the frig opening, and the little plastic cheese drawer that squeaks when I tug on it, and the thud of the wooden cutting board when I place it down on the stone counter.  

I cut off very small bites, one for her, and one for me. I eat my piece slowly while she inhales hers without a single chew.  I pause for effect before reaching for the next morsel, as if to train her to savor things more, and we just stare at each other.  

Then I begin to see myself reflected in her eyes. I see my own unbridled hunger, my impatience, and my inability to savor and appreciate all the little gifts, the tiny morsels and moments in life.