“They will never find me, ” I think gleefully as I construct my lunch from leftovers and whatever else is in the fridge. “I’m going to get to eat my meal in peace, without Bonnie trying to knock the sandwich out of my hand and Nan moaning pitifully under my desk while Bishop’s laser beam eyes try to set my food on fire. I’ve got them this time!”Bonnie

A few minutes later, I have my midday treasure ready to consume and presumably cloaked in invisibility. I slide silently without so much as a foot tread or a shadow, towards my office cave. I lay out my sandwich, basking in the knowledge that this lunch time will be different. I can eat without accusing eyes on me, making me feel guilty with each bite. As if the poor dears don’t get fed.

“Yes, I know,” I think, not saying it out loud lest they track me by voice. “You’re starving. You haven’t had biscuits in at least an hour. You can hardly stay upright on your deprivation-weakened paws.”

Invisible me turns around. But what is this? They are all there. In my office, smiling, panting, watching. I’m invisible, aren’t I? How can this be?Bish and Nan Biscuit TimeNo one said I don’t have a scent … or worse, that my sandwich has no smell. I’m horrified to realize they may not see me, but they can smell me — and my sandwich. I give up, let go of my invisibility cloaking. Another day, another sandwich, another battle of wills. Next time, I’ll just lock them out of the room.

It’s just that when I lock them out, Bonnie flings herself against the gate until I think it’s going to tear off its hinges, or wrench free of the wall. ย They really want a piece of my lunch. Invisibility, inshmisibilty.

They know where the food is.


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  3. Seriously adorable dogs! Your story reminds me of a great-uncle of mine who convinced himself when in grade school that he was a master ventriloquist; when his teacher called on him he simply covered his mouth and said (presumably in his normal tone of little-squirt voice), “You can’t see me; I’m in the wastebasket!” In a shocking turn of events, his teacher *was* miraculously able not only to see him, I gather, but to disabuse him of the notion that he could escape the required participation. Ah, innocence. Hope you got to enjoy at least a little of your lunch!!


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