The Microwave starting up must be like the dinner bell for Molly. Opening the refrigerator door is almost as good but nothing sets her feet to moving like the microwave whirring into action. As soon as I hit the "Start" button, it sets off a one dog, canine stampede and I don't care what kind of deep sleep she is in.
She knows she may be hand fed a few leftovers and at the very least get to lick the plate (who needs a dishwasher?) but she knows some victuals is probably headed her way.
I guess it would be considered a Pavlovian response to the microwave but if Molly could operate it herself, she wouldn't need me.
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