September 1, 2004
Uther Pendragon here. I usually keep my nose out of the
business, but sometimes I venture downstairs if I suspect master
has missed a treat or a meal, but it isnít my favorite place
cause it hurts my ears and the stuff sticks to my fur. More
importantly, thatís where the grooming table and bathtub are
located. I can do without both. With that said, master
twisted my paw to contribute to the effort. You see,
keyboarding is not one of my strengths, but he mentioned that it
could mean extra grub in my bowl, so here goes.
he may have told you otherwise, hereís the real scoop on how the
Fawski Feeder came to be. Not long after I arrived as a
puppy eight plus years ago, this great smelling chick shows up.
Her name is Lacey. Since she was a year older than me
and bossed me around, I quickly concluded that she must be my
Mother. I became very attached to her. For the next
three years we were inseparable, but then something very bad
happened. I recall often driving to Philadelphia to visit
her at the animal hospital before she went away. She was my
mentor and my best friend. I often see master talking to her
picture that hangs in the bookroom of our house. He
doesnít know, but I sneak a peek from time to time myself.
That was many baths ago. Since then, Norma Jean and now Morgan le
Fay have entered my life. But, enough history, letís talk
feeders. After all, thatís what I know best.
Lacey showed up, I was pushing my steel puppy bowls around the
kitchen floor, getting more frustrated when they wouldnít hold
still and my neck hurt to boot. Since I was a puppy, I
figured it must be bad technique. But, you know what?
When Lacey got here, she had the very same gripes. Besides,
we watched the masters eat off this fancy wooden raised table and
they didnít have to bend over. Enough was enough.
Although heís a bit thick, following some subtle Newfie
prodding, one day he shows up with the wooden measuring stick,
holding my bowl under my chin. The rest is history. Not only
were Lacey and I eating in class, but with ease, to boot. No
more throwing up our necks to get grub and water down and the
bowls stayed put. That was about a zillion meals ago.
Now, you couldnít pry our paws from our Fawski Feeders. On
the downside, however, it sure seems to Morgan and me that
thereís never enough in the feeders and they get empty too fast.
Iíll write again if master comes through with the extra grub and
you want to hear more?