Bird Dog of Alcatraz

Harry came from the pound, where he ended up after what was apparently a long time running loose.

He has food issues. If we don't give him a Kong toy stuffed with a biscuit, his little doggy brain will tell him that he is going to perish here from lack of sustenance, and he will obsess and raid the cupboards while we are gone, tasting and consuming everything from cereal to teabags to a tube of toothpaste which was on the kitchen table.

The other issue is that, when his stomach is upset, which is regularly due to his tendency to eat something first and ask questions later, he thinks he is hungry and will fuss about looking for something, anything to eat.

The other night, Harry was moving about the kitchen, his little doggy toenails click click clicking on the floor. I woke up and said, "What is he into?" EG muttered and walked out to the kitchen without his glasses and told Harry, "Go to bed." Harry complied. I wondered at the time, as Harry usually goes to bed about nine and sleeps all night, waking about five to lie down outside our bedroom door and wait for bathroom and breakfast.

Shortly afterward, I woke up to a tink-tink-tink sound of metal on glass and said, "What is that light?" EG, by now annoyed, headed back out to the kitchen. There was some doggy toenail scrambling noise, followed by some serious fast gulping, and EG scolding in Spanish. The refrigerator slammed shut, and a chair scraped across the kitchen floor to block access to the appliances.

I was reading this blog post from Ministry and Parenting about anniversary dates in adopted kids, and I realized that this was the time of year when Harry was loose and hungry. And I wonder if he is having his own memories of that time.