Dogged by a picky eater
At first, mealtime was simple.
Morning and evening, I’d place half a cup of the sweet potato-salmon kibble into the yellow bowl, put it down and then I’d take a step back as Felipe rushed in to devour it. I remember those days fondly.
Now, every morning and evening brings a complex test, a standoff between my best intentions and the dog’s capricious tastes. It’s exhausting, not to mention expensive.
True, old age brings changes in appetite and caloric needs. Felipe the miniature schnauzer will soon turn 14, an age not necessarily considered ancient for a small breed, but still, he’s getting up there. I suspect part of the problem is that his eyesight is failing, and his dental situation is iffy (which explains his rejecting the kibble).
He’s been part of the family for going on a year, and in those months, I’ve made a tour around the world of dog food unlike anything this dog-loving family has ever required. We’ve always had at least a dog or two, and all through those Daisy-Winston-Mugsy-Clemmie years, there was nothing but a huge bag of dry kibble in the basement — whatever was on sale. And those dogs lived to be very old.
And now I find myself working daily to tempt the tastebuds of this little rescue pup.
“Dogs did not evolve to starve themselves,” my friend said. “He’ll eat when he’s hungry enough.” I’m beginning to wonder.
That brought to mind my own picky ways, those evenings when the dinner plate had green beans or worse, canned asparagus. I was made to sit there at the table long after the rest of the family had moved on to other things, watching the vegetables grow cold.
I don’t know who won the standoff, but I do know my mother did not take orders at dinnertime. Now, all these decades later, I am a short-order cook for my dog.
Remembering Smoothie, my elderly sheltie whose chronic pancreatitis required a diet of brown rice and chicken breast, I cooked up a batch of that for Felipe. He hovered above the bowl, sniffed it once and walked away. I left the bowl on the floor, hoping he would return later, but no.
What followed has been an expensive traipse through the world of soft and wet dog food: the expensive single-serving tubs of chicken and noodles, the cans of chunky beef stew and the long tubes of pate held in special refrigerators at the grocery store. I tried all of it. In some cases, Felipe would eat the first serving and reject it after. In others, he sniffed and walked away. (That tubed stuff is diabolical in texture and smell.)
He liked scrambled eggs for about two days and then went cold on them. I even made myself a steak (something I almost never eat) just so I could give him a bit of it. He lapped it up, but is it worth spending so much on something I don’t like and that he will likely eschew?
Fickle as he is, Felipe is eating enough. He still likes a long walk, and at his last appointment, the vet noted his “love handles.” That wasn’t very nice of her to say, but it did confirm he’s not getting skinny.
This morning, I gave him a half a can of salmon and vegetable stew. He ate about half of that and then, bored, walked away. I’ve saved the rest of the can and will roll it out tomorrow to try again.
Dinner tonight? Who knows. We’ll see where his nose, and his whims, lead him.