Later, while cleaning up the living room, Biggie was sulking by his empty food bowl looking extra-pathetic. I thought, "Meh, I'll give him a little scoop to tide him over until supper."
That was a huge mistake.
About two hours later, he targeted Elliott and received another little scoop.
A couple hours after his regular supper time passed I fed him his regular meal. And then I didn't really hear from him.
"Psst. Look, Dane". Elliott had sneaked into the living room and was pointing at the couch over my shoulder.
I turned to this bloated and guilty piece of haggis:
Each time I checked on him he had rolled into a different position trying to compensate for his swollen belly.
So bloated that he can't balance on that horrible pillow.
