Cunning like a fox

Barney, our canine companion, has had surgery to pin and plate his knee joint, in order to prevent further harm to a badly damaged ligament.
His pain control is an opiate in capsule form smuggled into his meals, at least it was. You see, in an uncharacteristic smart bit of thinking, Barney has worked out that his food is making him stoned off his face. Unfortunately, as a result of this deduction, Barney the dog is now on hunger-strike. No titbit, not chicken, baked ham, sausages, cheese, nor dog food will be eaten. Each new offering will be expertly tested though, sniffed, licked, held on the tongue before, as though it might at any moment explode, it is gently and with disdain rolled away across the floor.
Thankfully, Barney being a moron, the one thing he is certain is safe and worthy of his trust is another painkiller. How long he can sustain himself solely on the doggy equivalent of ibuprofen remains to be seen, meanwhile he is singing "we shall overcome" and refusing to come out from under his blanket.