The bowl of DEATH

Life on Beer Run Farm has it's menagerie of animals. Papa B got Brown Dog when he first moved out to the farm (well before I waltzed into the picture). She was a cute little 6 pound fawn pit bull puppy with a fat belly full of worms. And she smiles. Yes, really! She will greet you with her teeth bared and tail a-wagging. It can be a bit disconcerting, especially to those who have never met her before. All they see is teeth with a 60 pound dog attached to them. But right behind those teeth is a tongue that will lick you to death if you let her. Papa B didn't do so good on the personal space aspect of her training. Now, at 7 years old and a baby on the way that is something we are working on.

I digress.

She has had fantastic socialization and I think she is the kind of dog where, had she not been trained and socialized as much as she was, she could have been a shy/insecure dog. She's outgoing, friendly, loves people and other dogs.

BUT.

The weirdist things completely mess her up. Moved a piano into her house and immediately started playing? No problem. Replace her well-loved napping couch with a waterproof crib mattress (and thus eliminating the smell - genius move on my part)? Bring it on! Replace her dog bowl? OH MY GOD RUN! THE NEW DOG BOWL WILL EAT ME ALIVE! She cowers, ducks, and shakes at this new bowl. And she hasn't eaten a substantial meal for 2 days. Now, I figure our dogs have won the doggie lottery having us as owners. 10 acres, a pond to swim in, their on mattress for a bed and ground raw venison added to every meal. Yes! Fresh meat everyday! What's not to love? But still she avoided the bowl.

Until this morning. I took the bowl off the placemat that I had so lovingly put on the floor for Brown Dog's dining enjoyment and comfort. Breakfast was served.