I’ve been keeping a closer eye on farm dog since I realize (many weeks too late, if he could post a comment) that pooch is suffering from allergies. It came to me yesterday, after he rubbed his head bloody. Today, farm dog is off of kibble, Milk Bones, and the parts of hubby’s meal that usually fly through the air in pooch’s direction. For the near term, farm dog will exist on an extraction diet of rice and venison. Fortunately, the deer hunters in the house had a good season so the freezer is full of ground venison.
The hunters aren’t especially happy to learn their prized kills are going to help farm dog clear his head and they hint that they’d be happy to “take care” of the dog’s allergies their own way. Tough talk. I remember there’s a new rifle sitting in the kitchen.
“Are you telling me you could shoot our pet?” I ask – a direct challenge to their machismo.
I count the seconds of silence while they deliberate. A semi-comforting admission from one: “Well, I’d feel bad.”
Hmm. A hint of conscience buried beneath muscle and body hair. I decide to keep farm dog close.
He loves his new diet, by the way. He licks the inside of the bowl clean. He licks the outside of the bowl clean. And, after I pick up the empty bowl, he licks the floor underneath the bowl clean.
I ponder the possibility of buying my own deer tag next fall.
It's just a little congestion, guys. Don't panic!
No comments:
Post a Comment