#hungry dog

"No, I will not open their door so you can go into their room and wake them up to check for food." It's a bedroom, and its occupants are asleep. But he knows that people drop food in all sorts of places, and even if he checked that room dozens of times today that doesn't mean that new food hasn't dropped since then.

He has now moved into the hall and stands, staring at the door. The whining comes in waves. Whine, whine, whiiiiiiiiiiiiine. Whine, whine, whiiiiiiiiiiine.

I am the villain of this story because I won't wake people up for a sniffing expedition.

whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.

I feel like the worst sort of person, and he knows I'm not immune to the whining.

So he's standing there like a Victorian orphan, thrown out onto the streets, starving, staring into the windows of a food shoppe. Except this is an 85-pound dog that was fed under an hour ago and who, I am sure, knows exactly what pitch to make these whines so they hit for best effect. He's an evil genius with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever (because they are literally puppy dog eyes).

whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.