I have five dawgs with whom I share my life.   I know that, technically, I spell dawg wrong but  my dawgs are not just generic dogs, they are southern and thus dawgs.  I love my dawgs because they are my peeps and part of my family.  They have been through tough times and good times with me and never seem to let me down.  At my loneliest they are here to lick a tear.  That sounds like a good country song title.  "My Dawg was here to lick away my tear".  I'll contact Carrie or Taylor very soon.  But I digress. 

These long-suffering animals have watched a great deal of dieting fads, and woes trample through my life.  They have stood precariously close as I attempt to exercise and looked sorely concerned.  They have oft times eaten the left-overs of pre-packaged diets... well sniffed them anyway and ruled them inedible.  They've loved me fat because I generate heat and soft comfy places to sleep.  They love me skinny because there's more room to snuggle in beside me.  They keep me company when I isolate myself from human company and make me laugh despite everything.  I think they deserve the best I can possibly give them.

I started Weight Watchers online last Saturday.  I had actually gained a couple of pounds... well four... so that would be a couple of couple pounds... right?  I ordered a cookbook from Amazon with the new points plus recipes.  I ordered the food and dining out companions and got a little calculator with it to keep up with my stuff when not at home.  I have faithfully logged my points online and looked up crap like "one tbsp of bliggity blarg = 2 points".  I've taken my vitamins; drank my water; cooked meals with my husband to plan specification; and even logged my activity (including washing dishes because it should count).  

I feel really good.  I like what I'm eating.  It's not hard to stay on plan.  I WANT to look like JENNIFER HUDSON.  My family wishes I sang more like her at family karaoke parties.  I wonder why.  At any rate, my energy level is soaring.  I'm up right now writing because I cannot sleep.  Maybe I'm bipolar and it's not the diet... I don't know but I feel really great.

I've been getting up in the morning before Michael gets off from work and making coffee for him and starting off the prep stuff for our egg white omelets with green pepper, onion, spinach leaf, ham, and cheese.  You got to chop a lot of veggies for that.  I was seperating egg yolks from whites and I thought, "You know, I should scramble these up for the dawgs so they don't go to waste".  

Perhaps it was the excess diet energy (or the bipolar) but I was suddenly inspired to start cooking for my dawgs instead of feeding them dry dawg food.  I have friends that have started doing this and I've been reading different little articles about the benefits for older dawgs and dawgs with skin problems.  I have both. 

Tequila is my fourteen year old chihuahua. He can only be described as my most loyal sidekick, supporter, familiar, oldest son, and yes, best friend.  I can go nowhere without him.  He even braves the bathroom to lay beside my feet.  I only leave him under extreme duress.   He is blind now and hard of hearing.  He bumps into walls and gets lost in corners.  But he is still precious and wags his tail and plays with Sookie, Butters, and Iggy Pop.  He just barks at Henry because Henry is very large (He's a 128 pound Boxer/Mastiff that believes in his heart that he's a chi) and gets in Tequila's way most of the time.  Tequila has lots of life in him and I want it to be filled with dawgy joy.  

Sookie is my tiniest dawg.  She was a rescue from the pound and what we describe as beautiful-ugly.  She weighed less than two pounds when she came home to us.  She was also bald in patches, and according to our vet, for no apparent reason.  She is very prissy and crosses her paws when she sits.  She stands up and daintily waves at people when they come to visit.  She has the most glorious tawny gold eyes I have ever seen on any dawg.  She is precious and barks like a longshoreman.  Sookie has fattened up but she is still bald.   She is itchy and scaley and just squirmy.  I absolutely adore her and always feel so bad for her feelings when people say she's ugly.  I know how she feels... I feel the same way when folks call me fat.  Besides, I know I'm fat, but I think Sookie believes she's beautiful and I don't want to disabuse her of that notion.  I mean we let Henry think he's a chihuahua after all.  

All that rambling has led me to this.  I've started cooking for my dawgs.  After Michael and I sit down together and eat breakfast in the morning, I get out  my old electric skillet and begin to make dawgy cuisine.  I mix hamburger, pink tuna, four egg yolks, green beans, corn, sometimes left over spaghetti noodles (they love that), brown rice, and two hand fulls of hard dawg food (for the health of their teeth).  I add a touch of garlic and vinegar for healthy blood flow and ph balance... and VOILA!!!  Dawgy cuisine.

They stand around me while I cook and moan in rapturous torture over the smells or perhaps it is because I sing to them about what I'm cooking.  Iggy Pop, our precious black furry menace, stands on his back legs and looks up at me with giant soulful eyes and literally talks.  He makes these little grunts and whines that sound a lot like words.  The wonderful cacophony of dawgy delight has to be witnessed to be believed.  When finally they get to eat, all becomes quiet except for huge gulping noises of swallowing.  

They look happy.  It's sort of like if Oliver Twist said, "Please, sir, May I have more?", and the answer turned out to be yes.  There is joy and celebration.  Tiny Tim (Sookie) got the giant turkey for Christmas dinner.  In fact, it's like Christmas every morning and evening when Dawgy cuisine is partaken.  The Dawgs and I owe it all to Weight Watchers.  

I want to be healthy, spry, mobile, and alert.  Why shouldn't my dawgs reap the same benefits.  They are, after all, loyal and beloved family members.  I love them beyond all belief and they repay that love a hundred fold.  

I love the flexiblity of this plan and how I can work within the points to create really appetizing and yet healthy meals.  Keeping up with what I put in my mouth (only food, I just can't find the points value for... never mind) has kept me mindful of portions and the extent of my actual hunger.  My optimism is still intact and regardless of what happens, I know I am eating well, my hubby is eating well, and most importantly, the dawgs are eating well.  I weigh again on Saturday.  My fingers are crossed and I swear I saw Tequila cross his toes.

Tequila

Me and Sookie

Butters

Evil Iggy Pop (also my site avatar)

Henry (and Sarah my niece)