Co-conspirators

Him: Outside on the porch on the phone
Me: Cutting up a miniature watermelon (her favorite summertime treat)
Her: Staring at me with those big brown eyes
She thinks we're co-conspirators. She thinks because HE can't see us I will give in. My willpower is strong. Her eyes are stronger. I'm trying to hold out. She's drooling. Long strands of slobber pool on the tile. I wince and look away. She's just sooooo sad. If only I would give her one small ball of watermelon, everything in the world would be okay. But no, me, with a heart of stone, ignore the big imploring eyes. I can't look at her. I finish cutting up the melon and toss the hollowed out rind into the trash. This is her absolute favorite part. Have I forgotten that she loves the little parts of melon that I can't manage to get out with the baller? It's her job to remove all remnants of melon from inside the rind. Why am I depriving her of this privilege? She stalks off, upset. Wounded. For the next hour or so, I will have to throw a tennis ball and scratch her belly to make it up to her.

She's very high maintenance.