I sat down at the desk here to check my email for the afternoon, with a plate in front of me containing a couple of rolled-up hors d'oeuvres, consisting of rolled slices of smoked chicken breast and yummy cheese, when I felt my ears burning like someone was talking about me behind my back. I looked down, and at either elbow was a dachshund staring raptly towards the plate with a gaze to make an eagle look myopic.
"Y'all know that I'm eating over a plate, and the plate is on a desk, and nothing is likely to fall to dog level, right?"
They didn't blink. Not once. Not until I was done and had carted my dishes to the sink did they stir from their sphinx-like poses. It was uncanny.
I'm used to dogs that beg. I'm used to dogs that ignore you. I'm even used to cats that will magically levitate to food-level and offer to fight you for your grub. But this dead-silent, absolutely single-minded scrutiny was almost unnerving...