They're a pair of ravenous little beasts. They will eat anything, anything at all. They've taken to leaping about me as I prepare food in the kitchen, anxious not to miss any opportunities to have something in their grasping little maws. They swallow anything they don't have to chew instantly, making us wonder if they even taste what they ingest. They've had asparagus, celery, tomato, banana, carrot, cauliflower and apple in tiny tidbits, all disappearing into that black hole of their digestive tracts.

More frequently they eat post-dinner salads that they avidly await being served. And they're prodigious drinkers. I moisten their dry kibble with chicken soup I've cooked leaving out the onion until I've removed their portion, so they have that source daily, but they drink water constantly and what goes in certainly must also go out.

For reasons of their own they're avid about licking as far up my legs as they can reach when I step out of the shower, lapping up the moisture clinging to my skin. They make certain to enter the bathroom just around the time I'm stepping out of the shower, although up until then they race about everywhere, managing despite their focus on 'catch me', to time things just right.

Another source is the dishes I've rinsed before placing into the dishwasher. Those dishes and pans awaiting the wash-and-dry cycle in the mechanical contraption that they have learned to regard as a source of delectable after-use moisture is an especial favourite of theirs. These are habits that will become ingrained unless I take steps to wean them away, but they've become established as a source of fascination to them, and amusement for us, so why bother?

Others perhaps might gnash their teeth in frustration, but in our regard these are harmless distractions, and if we cast our minds back in memory, escapades that our beloved Button and Riley also indulged in as puppies, then grew to discard in their more mature years.