He’s A Peach

My dog, the herbivore.

When you think of what dogs eat, the first thing that comes to mind is dog food, right? At Petsmart there are a few aisles of this product, be it salmon, or beef and wild rice. Canines aren’t picky.

However, my dog’s absolute favorite food doesn’t come in kibble form. It’s an unusual source in our backyard. No, not that. I’m talking about peaches. On a tree that is overflowing with peaches, there are a few branches low enough that a five-month-old puppy can reach them.

Notice that there are no more low-hanging peaches.

He and Pippa have so much fun rolling them and playing keep away from each other.

Mr. Innocent

Henry is still working on housebreaking. And the peach tree is on the opposite way from the grass. Unfortunately, he has to pass the tree to get to the grass.

This might take a while.

Chew On This

When I think of savor, I think of someone sitting down to a big hunk of steak, juicy and marbled with fat and flecked of pink flesh—I mean, meat.  In my mind they look like a cartoon character, napkin tucked into the neck of their shirt, fork and knife in hand, ready to dig in.  Beef is not my favorite, but I do eat chicken, turkey, and fish.

It probably it comes as no surprise that Pippa and Henry are meat fiends. I think most dogs are. When we have chicken or turkey for dinner, there is usually leftover from my plate. Dad, who loves them but would never admit it (“they’re ok,” he’ll say while he has one of on their back on his lap, scratching their stomach after dinner) feeds them tiny pieces of meat and it’s gone in a fraction of a second.

It’s Pippa and Henry’s dog chews that truly make me want to gag. Because they share, it’s like getting a used piece of gum. One of their favorite chew toys is a hoof! Sometime long ago, the thing I’m looking at by the table—where we eat dinner—was on some poor horse. Henry was chewing it, lost interest, and Pippa picked it up. Yummy.

I actually don’t know what kind of animal hoof this is. I try not to look at it long enough to figure it out.

They have another one that, of course, they share, and that one’s made of yak milk. How Mom handles those yaks, as we call them, without latex gloves, I have no idea.

This one’s make of yak’s milk. Better than an animal hoof, but not by much.

Shared horse hooves? Communal yak milk chews? Come to think of it, maybe steak isn’t so bad after all.