Come again, hound?

Ever since we adopted Reuben four years ago, he insists on barking like crazy the second he hears the dog food hit the metal dog dish.

Before every single meal.

For over four years.

No amount of dog training could break him of this habit. Maybe it has something to do with his inherent stubbornness, which likely stems from the fact that he is genetically hardwired to bark at raccoons up in trees for as long it takes until the hunter arrives.

Needless to say, the mealtime barking got old. Real old.

Until it stopped happening last Saturday.

At which point we knew something was wrong.

On Monday our vet diagnosed him with Addison's, an adrenal gland disease that can be fatal if not diagnosed properly, but is treatable once caught. He stayed the night at the vet hospital, and we picked him up Tuesday, expecting a marked improvement. Instead, he was weak, extremely lethargic and pathetic, and did not show the improvement we had hoped for.

And still no barking at dinnertime.

Early Wednesday morning seemed no better, and another trip to the vet was inevitable. I was worried, to say the least.

Then, within hours, he perked up. He started to seem like his normal self again. So I went to the pantry, grabbed the dog food, and started to fill the dish.

"Blarp....Blarp...............................Arf arf.........Barooooooooooo......Barooooooooooooooo!!!"

We now look forward to his mealtime barking.

Every single day.