My Life as a Dog
Every morning it happens. Chef gets up, comes downstairs, and opens the door to my room. He asks if I want to go out in an annoying, overly-loud tone, “Wanna go outside?!” He repeats this phrase over and over. Of course I don’t, I’m still sleeping- HELLO! I’d prefer to rest a little while longer, but no such luck- he picks me up, and places me on the cold wet grass in the backyard. Last year there was this dumb rabbit in MY yard eating all the grass. I’ve tasted grass before and it’s not delicious. No matter how many times I barked at that stupid animal, she kept coming back. Chef kept putting out fresh lettuce, carrots, and get this- bananas! No wonder the dumb bunny felt at home. Eventually the rabbit grew up and left- I was glad to see her go. Every once in a while, my master walks around the backyard looking for the rabbit; it’s a bit silly and sad if you ask me.
After around a million phone calls, Chef finally starts to cook- this is always the best part of my day. The only time I don’t pay attention to what he’s cooking is when he prepares vegetarian or vegan food- YUCK! I find a spot on the floor and wait until IT happens. Something flies off the counter onto the floor. I immediately spring into action and grab the food… I usually prevail, but sometimes he gets to it first. I’ve slowed down a bit since I put all this extra weight on; it’s not easy being the pet of a chef. I like most proteins- pork, chicken, beef, lamb, and especially salmon. Some of my LEAST favorite foods are radishes, tomatoes celery, and onions…blech. On one occasion chef dropped a whole stick of butter on the floor and didn’t realize what he had done. I waited until he left the house to make a delivery and ate all of it. The butter was really creamy and delicious, but a few hours after I ate it, I went to the bathroom all over the house. He came home and asked, “What have you done?” I only eat butter in moderation now.
Chef makes my food from scratch. He prepares a large pot of brown rice, and grills chicken, turkey, or other lean meats. After everything cools, it’s placed in the food processor, pureed, and stored in small sandwich bags. I’m allowed one small portion a food a day- that’s it. Sometimes at the end of the day I get hungry again. He can tell I want more food because I sit in front of him and stare directly into his eyes. He pretends not to see me, but eventually gives in and offers me a treat. Why do I only get to eat once when has three, and sometimes FOUR meals a day? Its not fair if you ask me. A few times he’s made comments about my girth- I don’t care for that type of remark; it makes me self-conscious.
Every day is a new adventure in food. My palate has become increasingly sophisticated in the six years that I have lived here. After eating I look forward to naps, resting on the front porch, and chasing animals out of my yard. What I enjoy mostly, however, is my time with the chef. I could live somewhere else, but why would I? Besides, I have this guy wrapped around my finger.