TANK, The Meat Eater… Is Feelin’ Kinda Wild!

     Ok, I knew it was coming, I see my dad watching it on the TV all the time; stop feeding your dog grains and corn, (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah). And then there’s my mom; she’s always going into Treats at Milwood Florist in Susanville where they’re always trying to talk her into changing my dog food. This time they gave her a sample of new food for me. No thanks!

No More Ice Cream and Cookies

Okay, let me just say that Mom’s research on healthy dogs has already taken away my ice cream and cookie privileges, caused me to get a new shot every year, and now I gotta get my nails trimmed regularly!! What’s next? I mean a guy’s gotta stick with the food he likes, right?

Try It. You’ll Like It.

    So when Mom finally gets out that little sample bag of dog food, I scramble the other way in protest. I heard ‘em. I know they’re planning to throw away my regular food tonight. I’m just not gonna eat that stuff! I’ll show them.

   Then she rips the bag open. I can’t help but sniff. Mmmm… what is that aroma?  At this point I’m feeling something kinda wild. Instinct takes over. I growl a low, deep growl, wiggling my body slowly as I move toward the prey. I slowly follow Mom out to the porch where she lays down the dish. I haven’t felt like this in years. I grab three pieces of the food and carry it to the front of the porch, so other dogs can get a chance to come and get a look at what I’ve got. I slowly eat each piece, all the time scanning the entire area for any neighbor dogs who might be coming after my new food.

Not Sharing This Stuff!

    You know my dad. He always feeds any hungry-looking dog that comes to visit. I know I’ve complained about it before, because he makes me stay in the house while they eat my food. Not this food! I won’t have it. I now live to protect my food. It starts with every morning meal and ends when I finally devour all of my dinner and head inside to my bed.

    When I have to stay at Mom’s, she’s always up before me, worrying about getting her coffee ready. From the time that coffee grinder goes off, I am up…. and ready for my meaty meal. It always goes the same way. I give her a few deep, quiet growls. (I usually am able to get my point across after about three or four discussions with her.) She’s usually laughing at me by the time we get to the front door. She lets me out and shuts the door while I manage my new routine;    

   First, I gotta know who’s been here. You know, by sniffing every inch of the front porch area that is anywhere near my dish. Just about the time I know the coast is clear, Mom brings out my morning meal. But I never finish that bowl of dog food anymore, at least not until late afternoon. There is something about being a meat-eater that makes me like to show off my prey and guard over it.

    It’s been almost two months now since we changed my food, and if you think I was good-looking before, you should see me now. I am lean, fast and let’s just say, looking sorta wild. If I do say so myself, I have the energy of a puppy and the mighty stature of a wolf. My mom is thrilled that I am shedding less. (Whatever!) My shedding has never been a problem at Dad’s!

   I keep close track of that food bowl all the time now. When I go out, the bowl goes out; when I come inside, I insist they move it inside. I don’t think my parents like my new routines, but that’s just how it is when you become a meat-eater. You get kind of wild.