Dane's first chore of the day is to take the dog for his morning walk, then feed him. He's usually pretty good about it, but lately he's been forgetting to feed the dog after his walk.
Donovan will lie around looking forlorn, refusing to leave the kitchen until he gets his daily meal. You can always tell whether or not Dane has fed him based on his disposition.
This morning, I went into the kitchen and noticed Donovan with his head perched hopefully on his paws, lying in the middle of the kitchen floor. It was pretty obvious he hadn't yet been fed.
Me: "Dane, did you walk your dog and feed him yet?"
Dane: "Mommy, I DID walk him. I just got back. But I forgot to feed him."
I took care of the task that had drawn me into the kitchen, then went back to my bedroom to work on my chores. A few minutes later, Donovan appeared in the bedroom. He looked sadly up at me, shoulders slumped, then laid down right in my path.
I marched into the kitchen, Donovan following behind me, a little more spring in his step. He recognized the direction I was headed and the purpose with which I walked. I checked his bowls. Water bowl was almost empty and hadn't been cleaned, part of the feeding process. Food bowl was empty. No boys. As I rounded the corner from the dining room into the hallway, I saw both boys sitting in the living room talking.
Me: "Dane, you didn't feed Donovan yet, did you?"
Dane, very slowly: "We-l-l-l-l-l . . ."
Me: "You're busted, son. The dog came and told on you."
Dane: "MAN! Now the dog's telling on me, too."
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