Last weekend, my son and I visited one of my best friends who lives in Orlando. When we walked through the door around 6 p.m. on Sunday, my fur babies–Rusty and Sasha–ran to the door jumping and kissing us as if we were a pair of beef lollipops. Immediately after, Rusty led the way to his feeding bowl trying to show me that something was missing.
Earlier, my dog sitter texted me to let me know that Rusty didn’t eat his breakfast, so he picked it up and put it on the kitchen counter, that way Sasha—the food vacuum—wouldn’t eat it. I knew exactly why Rusty did that: every time that I leave for more than one day, he starts a hunger strike to show his discontent. Continue reading “Hunger Strike”