Corn time is noon, sharp, and Dobby knows this. He generally comes around at 11:59 and opens the kitchen door, which rings some bells I hung on the doorknob. Sometimes, though, he tries to get his “noon” corn a little early. The time stamp on this little series starts at 11:28. I noticed him sitting on the deck with a piece of dried up corn husk sticking out of his mouth. By the time I grabbed my phone to get these photos, he had already moved to the table.

“Can’t you see how I am pointing this piece of corn at the table?” (Ignore that squirrel.)

We have to put his corn-on-the-cob on that table for him. We used to put it on the ground, but one day I put it “out of his way” up on that table while I was busy with something, so he stood up and snatched it! He now refuses to acknowledge corn on the ground and we have to put it on the edge of the table.

“I’m not sure you understand what I am trying to communicate, here!”

At this point, I am concerned that the piece of corn is actually stuck between his incisors, so I grab the husk. It comes away easily and I realize he has been holding it with his lips! How long was he going to sit there with it, like a phony cigar, I wonder?

“It’s not a CIGAR, it is CORN! Do you get it now?”

Now that I have taken away his cigar, he turns to the table and stands up to look over the top. A few days before, he knocked Wheelie Duck down and ate the plants. Is he looking at Wheelie Duck? There’s nothing left for him to eat out of it, so probably not.

“If you were faster with that cell phone camera this would have been a cute photo of me on two feet, looking at the table top.”

I finally realized that he was begging for his “noon” corn, half an hour early!

“She figured it out!” *does a Doofus Dance*

Sorry, Dobby, you have to wait! I gave him a pear appetizer, instead.

Half an hour later. . .