You stumble into the kitchen before sunrise, half-asleep, only to open the plastic storage container and find it completely echoing and void of dog food. The family dog is already sitting directly in front of you with an expression of profound, soul-crushing betrayal, staring at you as if you have personally canceled Christmas.
You are forced to frantically comb through the pantry for emergency oatmeal, leftover white rice, or desperate handfuls of Cheerios to stave off a canine mutiny before work. By 6:00 AM, you are standing in a bathrobe negotiating breakfast terms with a golden retriever who clearly believes you are failing as a pack leader.
