I sat on the floor in the kitchen this evening next to Charlie as he ate his dinner, reluctantly at first as he always does, and then only begrudgingly, as if the kibble had no taste and offered nothing of interest.
I kind of understand where he’s coming from. My tastebuds are still recovering from last year’s treatment, and I find that I approach my meals reluctantly at first and then eat only begrudgingly, because the food often has no taste and offers nothing of interest.
We seem to see things from the same point of view, Charlie and I.