Two-dog nights and days ~ December 14, 1989
David Heiller Sunday night, Dec. 10, 7:30 p.m. Binti, our 10½-year-old dog, is having a nightmare. She’s lying by the Christmas tree, whining and yipping and quite soundly asleep. Queen Ida lifts her head up from the rug in the kitchen where she is sleeping, and looks at me. It’s the same blank stare I must be giving her. “What the heck is Binti dreaming about?” Maybe it’s those Christmas cookies that they were fighting over earlier in the evening. Cindy had the kitchen table covered with them, sugar cookies shaped like pine trees and Santas, moons and stars, lions, and bells, all frosted white with glitter stuck on top. Every time Queen Ida came too close to the table, Binti would snap and growl, making us all jump. Binti knew she couldn’t have any of the cookies, but she was making darn sure that Queen Ida had none either. The muffin syndrome in action: Queen Ida is pretending to eat while Binti looks on coldly. That’s the Muffin Syndrome in my dictionar...