I heard Maggie crunching on her kibbles this morning in the laundry room. "Good!" I thought. She eats it grudgingly though. She finished eating, walked back into the den with me, and collapsed on the floor with a sigh and a sad look. "This is just terrible," she seemed to be implying. Well, terrible me went and got a honey bun and ate it for breakfast with a glass of milk as Maggie sat and watched intently with those doe eyes. It was then that I felt terrible. She was putting such a guilt trip on me. "You can't have this girl," I told her. "You are going to get diabetes." A moment passed. I tore off a big piece of honey bun and gave it to her. "Here! You win!" I said as I sighed in defeat. I am such a softie when it comes to that dog. She is my best friend you know. George is a close second. I can't keep doing this. Tough love as they say. My father has a patent on it.