As you can see from the picture I really made the most of my foot injury. Afterall, Monika likes to walk for miles on end and I don't believe that walking is really a necessity when you have a comfortable car like I have.
But you might be more interesting in reading what the title is all about: Well, to tell you the truth, I would be a fool to spell out what I think so I rather give you the story as it looks to my human friends: I can't eat! - For weeks I haven't eaten properly. When I reached a low of about 32 kilograms Gene took me to the vet because I refused to eat. However, the vet could not find anything wrong with me and Gene admitted that my behaviour seemed absolutely normal if he disregarded the fact that I was not eating. I must say I did look a little skinny. The vet told Gene to try and coax me into eating whatever way he could. So Gene sat down with me and talked me into eating. He took the food along on walks and fed me from his hand. He started hand feeding me at home. Still, I would not gain weight. So the vet sold us some great food which is normally given to dogs after operations etc. It is some sort of super food, half the normal amount of which gives you sort of twice the energy you need... and as Gene would put it: and it costs four times the money it should. Nevertheless, with all his tricks and the diversity of food, Monika and Gene got me up to about 36 kilograms.
We then went to the Netherlands for an Easter break. As you can see from the picture to the right, Monika and Gene had chosen a lovely part of North Holland where we had huge dunes to play in, lots of woods to walk in and great sand beaches to meet other dogs. Monika and Gene were flabbergasted by the friendliness of our Dutch hosts. Wherever we went we found that I was most welcome. In restaurants I was served first with a bowl of water before Gene could try another of the splendid Dutch beers. But although we hiked and walked for an average of 18 kilometers per day, I still did not eat voluntarily and forced Gene and Monika into "force-feeding" me, i.e. sit down and push food into my mouth bit by bit. But I guess I have made a mistake on the way. After snubbing at a number of different offers of food, I mistakenly rushed to gobble down the special vet food one night. Gene said something about me not being ill and that he would no longer fall for my tricks. He has been offering me the same food for three days now. I still haven't eaten. And he still does not sit down to coax me into taking a bite. He puts out the dish for ten minutes in the morning, and back it comes for ten minutes at night. I won't touch it! I promise! And if I starve to death, you read it here first!