It’s no secret that I have a bit of a watermelon addiction in the summer. Although it may seem like my consumption is primarily in the form of boozy treats like watermelon mojitos or watermelon margarita Italian ice, I can assure you my alcohol intake is actually quite tame. I have to be up to watch Charles Osgood on Sunday mornings, after all.
I somehow forgot to buy a watermelon this week and I am going through what can only be described as withdrawal symptoms, and probably dehydration due to my inability to drink plain water (it needs to have a lemon or lime, at minimum). You know who else has a watermelon addiction? Honey. I thought this dog could not possibly love any food more than chickpeas, but watermelon takes the cake. She jumps up and down, cries, and gives me the most pathetic puppy dog eyes when I eat it in her presence.
I had the brilliant idea to teach Honey “low five” the other day: she would paw my hand, and I would give her a bite of watermelon. However, I think I underestimated her intelligence. It took her all of two seconds to learn this trick and realize she could initiate the “low fives” on her own and eat watermelon to her heart’s content. Sure, I could ignore the now incessant pawing, but I taught her the trick. Don’t I have some sort of obligation to follow through? That, and I am a giant pushover when it comes to Honey. She wears the pants in our relationship.
I may have created a “low five-ing” monster, but she’s so damn cute, I don’t even care. Here’s a video Aaron took of her:
And this is why I am like putty in her little furry paws.