de gustibus non est disputandum
"In matters of taste, there can be no disputes"
Soooooo the momma and I were talking. Thanks to auntie Jodi, we tried the doggy version of the Pumpkin Lattes.
I found them to be delicious. Thanks auntie Jodi.
JD walked off in a huff after a sniff.
Wendy waited for me to lick my bowl clean before she even approached hers.
Ultimately she lapped up hers. But then, the Wendy has a rep around here... she is sort of like a forager..., turn your back one second and she will gladly eat it gone for you... whatever it is.
And this takes me to what I would like to discuss today. TASTES, INDIVIDUAL TASTES.
There seems to be a myth out there, that every four legged likes what every other four legged likes.
That, my friends, is a total fallacy!
For example. Yesterday momma indulged daddy's inner four year old. [I was really waiting to see this kid come out!] Apparently his "inner four year old" [He never did come out... I watched and waited for nothing, although I really was wondering how he was going to come out at all!] is into burgers and fries. At my house this is not a "meal" But like I said, she indulged the inner four year old. [I am crossing my eyes. That kid needs help. He is a brat! Why not crave something wonderful like coubliac??? Or something like gnocchi and sage? The brat really needs help]
Alas..., momma made burgers and french fries.
Apparently momma violated some burger law because she seasoned her burger. The inner four year old complained about that... Ate every bite, but whined. The inner four year old is a hypocrite The fries on the other paw were a major hit even though.... momma added fried rosemary and flaked salt. By the way that inner four year old -the little creep-eats like a grown man... The fries wee a hit with me! Look, I am not really into beef. That stuff is hard on my system. I am like JD. Beef and chicken are not "friendly". In his case they are deadly, in my case they just give me a tummy ache. Wendy on the other hand.... She could have scarfed up all the burgers!
But presented with a perfect french fry, she walked off. Freak. Miss Hoover walked off. That is what momma calls "individual taste". I call it "FOOL SUCKER FOOL". I could have eaten all the fries!
In fact I tried working the cute factor to get fries. But momma invoked that tired routine about weight and then she mentioned auntie Robin, Womp, womp. Kiss of death. No more delicious french fry.
Well to de gustibus non est disputandum.... we have a reply!
WHATEVER YOU ARE INTO:
FEED THAT INNER CHILD!
'VIE AND DA GANG
kill that diet~!