I've had it and won't take it anymore. You have a very unhappy cockapoo, I'm sorry to say. Every day I observe a parade of delicious food march from the refrigerator to the table and watch as you gorge yourselves. I sit quietly at your sides, staring intently, often giving a brief, quick tail wag to ensure my wishes are clearly understood. Then finally comes my dinner. And what do I get? Kibbles, kibbles, and more kibbles. Does the steak ever land in my bowl? the turkey? the chicken? cheese? or how about the Honey Nut Cherrios? or waffles? No, no, no, no, no and no! Well, I've been Mr. Nice-a-poo for too long. I know my rights and I want some of that people food too.