Down Home: It’s a dog’s life

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Curiosity got the better of me, and I finally succumbed to temptation.

To my credit, I resisted for months. I thought about it. And I wondered how it would be. I considered it at least once a day, sometimes more. Finally, I gave in.

I hope you won’t think less of me, but I have to confess: I tasted dog food.

Well, not just any dog food. My dog’s food. Both kinds.

Topanga’s diet primarily consists of a basic meal—tiny brown pellets—blended for small-breed adult canines. She’s part Cavalier King Charles Spaniel and part Shih Tzu, and she weighs about 12 pounds. Her diet, plus exercise has served her well, and she’s a healthy 6-year-old dog.

We also supplement her meals with what we call her “treat.” It’s tan and about four or five times larger than the main food. It’s hard, and it’s supposed to be good for her teeth. So, she gets two treats when she finishes every meal.

You don’t have to be a dog whisperer to know Topanga likes her treats way, way, way better than her regular food.

Sometimes, she’ll leave her breakfast in her bowl until dinner. She just doesn’t seem to have all that much interest in it.

But then she’ll follow me around the house, looking at me expectantly. I’ll go check her bowl and explain—once again—she has to eat her food before she gets a treat.


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Actually, she reminds me of our girls when they were preschoolers. When they wanted something, they demonstrated absolute tenacity in longing for it—and letting me know their lives would not be complete until they got it.

That’s how Topanga is with her treats.

After every meal, no matter if she gobbles it as soon as I pour it or if she waits for hours before getting around to it, Topanga finds me immediately. She doesn’t speak English, but she has a low moan-growl-whine that, properly interpreted, insists: “OK, I ate the stupid, boring meal. So now, according to all the laws of decency and Pavlovian response, you owe me two treats.”

For the longest time, I’ve been wondering what’s so different between her regular food and her treats.

Then, when I ask, “Do you want your treat?” she practically quivers, she’s so excited.

She always beats me to the kitchen, and she’s there beside the cabinet where we keep both her regular food and her treats, waiting. If a butterfly can flap its wings on one continent and cause-and-effect results produce a hurricane on another continent, then I’m sure Topanga’s pre-treat tail-wagging has provided the catalyst for monsoons and tornadoes the world over.

The best thing about Topanga’s treat obsession is it provided the motivation for her to learn to sit on command. She knows she must be seated to get her treats, and now I don’t even have to say, “Sit.” Just one look is all it takes, and her fanny is flat on the ground.

For the longest time, I’ve been wondering what’s so different between her regular food and her treats. They’re both hard, dry dog food.

Eventually—and I knew it was only a matter of time—I tried them myself. Frankly, I wouldn’t wag my tail, even if I had one, for either.

OK, I know Topanga’s nose works approximately 259 times better than mine. And odor is a huge part of taste and enjoyment of food. So, maybe Topanga whiffs something I can’t comprehend. But they both tasted about the same, which is to say I hardly tasted anything. Maybe the treat tastes a little more like corn and the regular food trends toward wheat. But that’s it. No primordial meaty tang; nothing to make carnivores howl at the moon.

Here’s another confession: Sometimes, I’m jealous of Topanga.

She leads the most stress-free life you can imagine. She has plenty to eat and a comfortable, safe place to live. She gets enough exercise, and I massage under her ears and scratch her belly several times a day. She sleeps when she wants to and roams the house when she wants to. If it amuses her, she runs around the back yard chasing squirrels. She has found meaning in playing with me and lying by my lap in our easy chair. “It’s a dog’s life” is a good thing.

Except for that boring food. Thank God, I’m a man and not a beast.

 


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