Mack did the walk of shame on Sunday:
After months and months of diet dog food, reduced portions and exercise, Mackie fell off of the healthy living wagon, hard. About a year ago, Mackie was 93 lbs. With hard work, he had achieved his ideal weight of 85 lbs. Actually, it was 81 lbs, but it doesn’t matter because it all was flushed down the toilet on Saturday.
Saturday morning was Peterbilt’s turn to go with us to Petsmart to get some new dog food. Peterbilt has an allergy to something in kibble that we can’t quite pinpoint (If any of you out there have experienced this, let me know what food ended up working for your dog). His naked polka-dot tummy breaks out in rashes and his ears get all irritated and smelly. We had him on FreshPet Turkey for most of the summer, which cleared him right up. However, that shit isn’t cheap and is very time-consuming to prepare. It comes in giant tubes, like a giant Pimento loaf, and you slice off a 1/2 lb or so as needed. I have to chop each slice up into bits I found, after I watched in horror one morning while Peter unhinged his jaw like a python and swallowed the damn thing whole. Chopping takes like a minute, which to Peter is like an hour. He stands by while I do it, growls and stomps his feet like an asshole.
Anyways, we ended up with a Proplan kibble that is gluten and soy free with a fish base. We purchased a small bag to try. When we got home, by husband set the bag by the front door and we both got ready to start tilling my months-neglected garden for the fall.
I took out my tomatoes cages, uprooted the petrified broccoli plant and chucked the old, yellowing cucumbers that probably should have been picked 3 weeks ago. My husband busted out our 30 year old, widow-maker garden tiller and I went inside to feed the dogs an early dinner and get our lunch started.
About an hour later, I walked past Mack’s food dish to see leftover kibble in the bowl. “That’s odd”, I thought to myself. Fatty Fat Fat usually licks his bowl to a mirror finish every time. Then, I walked up stairs and noticed the new dog food bag was torn open, with a hole about the size of a bulldog face. Knee jerk reaction is always to blame The Bilt, but he had been sleeping in a bedroom for the last hour and a half. Then I looked out of the window to see Mack, devouring the remnants of one of my discarded cucumbers and about to take on a second.
“Jesus. He’s had like 5 meals and a 2 lb cuc in the last hour”, I said to myself. Old veggies will make for some vomit-inducing farts later on. Note to self, turn on all ceiling fans now.
I wrestled the partially devoured cucumber away from Mack, threw all of the old cucs in the garbage and marched Mack’s old ass into the kitchen to show him what a bad thing he did. “I know. It’s smells delicious. Why do you think I ate it?” was the look I got when I tried to rub his nose in it. Not sorry for a second. I could even sense the faint glimmer of pride. He may be 84 years old in dog years but he can still take down a 15 lb bag a kibble like a 8 month old pup.
The next morning, Mack was looking a little bloated. My husband even though he looked fat again. He moved through the house slower than his “I’m old. Pity Me” gait he does when he is trying to avoid a walk. I was concerned. I laid Mack on his side and applied pressure to different areas of his stomach, looking for any reaction of pain. None. Diagnosis? Food Hangover.
The farts were 1-2 a minute and as bad as I expected. What made it worse, Peter had also enjoyed about a half of a cucumber and now the dog couldn’t even blink without farting. So now I’m literally being bombarded. For my own health and safety reasons, I went to Target. Drastic times, drastic measures.
By dinner time and 8 bowel movements later, Mack was up to his old tricks again and has since been receiving reduced portions of food and more walks as penance. And no more cucumbers. Mack’s back on the wagon…….for now.