Musings on a Dog’s Dinner.
As you may have gathered from previous posts, we have a german shepherd called Boris. I feel I can write about him and his life because he is unlikely to become a famous politician or a pop star in the future – my musings are not going to be detrimental to his future life. Unless he develops opposable thumbs on his paws, if that happens he may very well take over the world and will curse my blog for letting the world know of his peculiarities and weaknesses….namely chicken tikka marsala, sardines, eggs and cat biscuits. Goddam our dog, he’s far too clever for his own good. He eats better than I do. I have been totally and utterly manipulated by his doggy demands. Help!
I suppose I’m just venting really. German Shepherds are known for having dodgy tummies, so on dog biscuits he was an absolute nightmare. They just didn’t suit him, I suppose the politest way I can put it is to say that poo bags just weren’t ‘doing-the-doo’. So, I put him on what is known as a Raw Food Diet. He eats raw meat, which up until recently was suiting him quite nicely. I’ll admit, chopping up bits of raw liver, slopping containers of raw mince into his bowl, lobbing raw chicken carcasses into the back yard for him has been a little traumatic. I’m very glad I’m not a vegetarian, because I’d be a quivering wreck by now. So, yep, my dog has turned me into an amateur butcher I suppose. Until recently. You see my dog is clever, very clever, devious in fact. He’s decided he wants to choose his own food and has recently refused to eat anything apart from small fish, left over curry and eggs. Oh, and stolen cat biscuits, much to the despair of our little black kitty. Rosie has taken to growling sometimes whilst eating her cat biscuits. Cats growl! Who knew? She’s defending her grub from him. You see he does what we call Counter-Surfing. Because he’s a big dog he can reach the cat biscuits almost anywhere I leave them, the beast.
So now, 9 times out of 10, he refuses to eat his raw food and will instead rob the cat and raid the dishwasher if I’m not quick enough to stop him. He had a whole chicken leg the other day sat in his bowl, and he just left it there – preferring instead to sit next to the newly loaded dishwasher licking the chicken tikka marsala encrusted dinner plates. We do not need a german shepherd pre-wash and try to discourage this behaviour, but he’s a determined furry monster. This is not a balanced diet by anyone’s standards. He does love sardines and raw eggs though, as a treat. In desperation I’ve taken to giving him these to stop him starving himself. Unfortunately he’s realised that if he pretends to starve himself, he gets his favourite foods. I am, being manipulated by a dog. It’s not funny anymore.
When I was a kid we had a labrador who would eat ANYTHING, she once scavenged a massive tub of margarine from the fridge and licked a huge dent in the middle of it. She would eat lettuce, fruit, cooked meat, raw meat, stolen lasagne…anything. I miss that. Having a furry hoover had its uses. If the kids drop crisps, Boris wanders over, sniffs them and then looks up at us as if to say ‘What do you expect me to do with this?!’ and then wanders off. Perhaps I should borrow a labrador for a day and get them to give Boris hoovering lessons. For those of you who read quickly and might have mis-sread that, that’s ‘hoovering’, not ‘hovering’. I do not want my dog to hover – just to eat sensibly.
So that’s it really. Just a bit of a rant about the battle of wills with Boris. Life is full of its little challenges. Challenge 1 – feed dog properly. Challenge 2 – write more.
This blog is dedicated to my lovely friend Gabrielle who said I should persevere with writing. So I have. Job done. For today at least. Next time I may ascend to loftier literary heights of excellence, I might write about the cat’s dinner.
Much love to anyone out there still reading this stuff. x