So, I'm in the kitchen. All four dogs are in the kitchen with me. It's morning and that means it's time for cookies. The dogs all know this and they do not let it slip my mind. Ever.

All four furry dog butts are planted on the tiled floor in a row, all four tails going back and forth like they are competing in a synchronized tail wagging contest. Their expectant looks always make me smile and this scene is always the perfect way to start my day.

But, this morning, they are getting a little lecture with their cookies.

"Listen, my doggies," I begin carefully, "I have some news to tell you. From now on, we are all retired. Do you know what that means?"

Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag.

"Well, it means that instead of each of you getting four cookies in the morning, you will only be getting three."

Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag. Cookies, cookies! She said cookies, right?

"We are on a fixed income now. We are going to have to start living on less than half of what we are used to. We're going to have to cut back on a lot of extras."

Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag. Extra, extra! She said extra cookies,right?

"So, that box of doggie treats has to last for a whooooole month from now on."

Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag. Oh, yeah!!!! Doggie treats! When she says doggie treats, she means cookies!!!! And we love cookies!!!! Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag.

"We're going to have to cut back on the smoked pigs ears, too."

WAG, WAG, WAG, WAG, WAG. She said smoked pigs ears, didn't she? Yep. She said it. We're dogs...we have good hearing.

"So, from now on, you're only gonna get smoked pigs ears every other month or so, okay?"

WAG, WAG, WAG, WAG, WAG. Did you hear that? We're getting pigs ears! Woo Hoo!!!!

"We're all making sacrifices now," I say as I dig into the dog treat box and come up with four square tidbits. A brown one for Timm, a yellow one for Violet and whatever is left for Raisin and Batdawg because they aren't the fussy ones.

Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Okay, we're ready for round two of cookie time!

"Like not having flavored cream in my coffee every morning," I say, letting them know they aren't the only ones having to make changes as I pass out the treats. "It's back to plain milk for me."

Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Okay, none of us peed in the hallway last night so pay up, lady! Round three!

"And no more pricey paper towels to clean up the messes you dogs make!" I admonish tenderly, "We're using the cheap store brand now."

Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Round four, please!

"It won't be so bad," I say, looking at their eager faces. "There'll always be plenty of regular dog food. It's just the treats we're cutting back on."

Wag, wag, wag, wag, wag. Where's round four, lady? Huh? Hey! Excuse us, but aren't you forgetting something? Like round four of cookie time?

"Sorry, guys, but that's it for today," I say and show them my empty palms. That's the signal that treat time is over. They looked at one another and I swear I could see the confusion on their faces. Then Raisin heaves one of her big Labrador sighs and turns to leave. The rest of the dogs follow her into the living room and soon they are all stretched out on the floor in front of the patio door window, soaking up the warmth streaming through the glass.

Smith, the cat, purrs into the kitchen then and butts his head against my shins. That's his way of reminding me that his food dish is empty and he would like his half a can of tender slices in real beef gravy and ONLY tender slices in real beef gravy and not some other flavor, or some other brand, if you don't mind. And even if you do mind, it had better be exactly what I want or I will throw it up on the sofa, and we don't want that mess again, now do we, lady?

He sits primly in front of me, wrapping his tail around to cover his front paws. He blinks at me a few times and then yawns.

"Smith, old buddy," I begin gently, "I have some news for you. We have joined the ranks of the retired. Do you know what that means?"

He blinks again. Yeah, I know what that means. That means you and the dogs are gonna have to make a few cutbacks. Now, where's my half a can of tender slices in real beef gravy?