The Staredown

I sat down on the couch after a long day at work for a pre-dinner snack of sliced cheese and a glass of red wine. I settled myself into the butt-groove corner of the L-shaped couch, placed my feet up, and picked up a slice. Before I could take a bite, two pairs of no longer napping eyes were upon me, fixated on the cheese in my hand. Like magnets, they followed the cheese as I moved it to the left, then to the right, and popped it in my mouth. These wide, dark, glimmering saucers remained unblinking as they continued their gaze at my face as I chewed - assuming that the cheese would materialize into their presence once again. Their gaze broke as my hand moved back to the small plate of cheese, and we performed the swing dance of staring and cheese once again.

I broke off a tiny piece. "Chees-ie?"

Their heads tilted in unison.

Living alone, I forgot what it was like to have dogs and remember that no snack is safe if eye contact with these two can be made.

Seriously, how could anyone say no to these faces?

Ginny the Havanese & Wrigley the Westie visiting from North Carolina.