my own dog pack

the dogs are waiting to see my next move they follow me from room to room from mailbox to porch from porch to art studio I am their pied piper they have a daddy, and they love him but unless he is beside the refrigerator, they are mine my own pack; my protectors, my babies If daddy has the refrigerator open, they leave me temporarily because they know they can get baloney, chicken and hot dogs all they have to do is turn on their begging eyes. He is easy, like me