The potato chip whirlwind

I've written before about trying to win the praises of my son's family's dogs. I think I may have become too successful.

We like chips. By we I mean me, Gaspode, and Riley. They were both shelter dogs, so I understand they will be skittish around new people, or folks they only see every couple of months such as myself. My nefarious plan to curry their favor involves sharing my potato chips with them. This has gotten, for me, a bit absurd of late. I find that, standing in the store to buy snacks I fall to thinking, 'what would they, the dogs, like to try?' It's thoughts I had never thought myself thinking.

Anyway, I share whatever I buy with them. I always, always, mind you, get the first chip. I will be the Alpha dog. Then I give them each a chip up to three, my also always getting the next chip, the fourth then the seventh in order. I get a share of my larder too. 

We stop at three because if I have to watch my chip intake they have to watch theirs. If restraining what I eat is good for me (if we can believe my doctor) then it's good enough for them too.

The whole thing however has reached the point where the first time the dogs see me in the morning they follow me around until I offer them chips. The second time they see me they follow me around until I offer them chips. The third time they see me they follow me around until I offer them chips. It's reached the point where if I'm checking my phone for calls or texts they think it's a sign that I'm getting chips. If I sit down to play solitaire at the computer they think it's a sign that I'm getting chips. Pats on the head or stroking behind their ears are, of course, acceptable substitutes. But you can feel the disappointment.

I think perhaps things have gone a bridge too far. I just pushed away from the computer to turn off my percolating coffee, and the pups followed me into the kitchen looking for chips. I did not give them any. But I feel bad about it.