Carrying doggy devotion to the extreme

My breakfast routine is predictable, but complicated. First, I have some cereal, making sure to leave a bit at the bottom of the bowl for the dogs. Aquinnah licks the bowl; Martha tackles the spoon.

This is followed by a bit of kibble for the pups. They have full bowls of dog food before I even reach for the box of cereal, but somehow adding a few extra pieces of kibble to the post-cereal phase of the proceedings has become part of the routine. When you're dealing with dogs, it's best not to mess with routine.

I then eat a banana and prepare a mug of tea. After that, the pups wait expectantly for the final course: a breakfast bar. They sit at my feet, trying to appear patient but fooling no one, until I split the last morsel of bar in two and give the pieces to them.

I mention all this to provide some context for what follows.

The other day, when I pulled the breakfast bar from its package, I noticed that the bar’s normally smooth exterior was marred by what looked like an inch-long slash mark. Obviously, this deformity was just a fluke, a production or packaging abnormality that occurred when the bar got twisted or punctured.

So I quickly decided the bar was safe to eat. But, erring on the side of caution, I thought: “I’ll eat that odd piece myself instead of giving it to the dogs. That way, on the off chance there is anything wrong with it, they won’t get sick.”

I know. Something is terribly wrong with this picture.