A post should appear every Sunday.
Sunday October 30th 2022
I’m glad that little Isis refused to eat only kibbles for breakfast, and spurned her kibbles with sardines for supper. Good for her. I have, I conclude, been incredibly dense. As creatures grow older, of course they change. Why shouldn’t a dog become bored with her monotonous diet? People do. Now I am old, I am repulsed by the very thought of the pilchards atop baked beans on toast which I happily downed in my student days.
So, it’s a tablespoon of minced beef with her breakfast, another with her supper. What a contented little podengo lives here.
A long time vegetarian, Human doesn’t relish dealing with meat, especially raw meat, and shudders as she looks at, handles and cooks it.
Isis responds very differently. On Saurday, when I remove the pack from the fridge, open it, and get out the pan, she comes into the kitchen and lies at my feet. She’s never done this before. Then, while it’s being cooked, she sits just inside the back room, her pink and black spotted nose whiffling in anticipation.
Wherever she is as I remove her the cooked meat from the fridge, that nose soon picks up the tantalising smell. When I begin to pour boiling water over the mince, she trots down the hall and stands in the kitchen doorway, waiting for me to pat her in. When she sits, I tap her under her chin, partly close the door to eliminate any light which might be sneaking through from the porch, and creep away.
Now, you may recall that since the mince regime began, Human had seen huge improvements in Hairy One’s dining room manners. It had reached the point when Human only needed to give Hairy a gentle poke in the side in response to the first woof, and to lift her feeder two centimeters off the floor in response to the second woof, and the barking ceased. More progress came, and only the gentle poke was necessary to quell the barking. A huge improvement from the habitual outbursts which could last until she’d finished eating.
This week, believe it or not, her mealtimes are barkless. Yes, really. Barkless. She approaches her dish, I retreat and wait nearby, ready to intervene.
And wait. And wait.
All I can hear is a very quiet munching, and, now and again, the clink of her bell making contact with the rim of her dish.
After a few days, I discover that I can even walk into the hall and upstairs without provoking a volley of growls, snarls and ear piercing yaps.
Life is so much easier now: I don’t have to unscrew the clamp in order to remove her bowl of water so that she doesn’t splosh it all over the floor, then replace the clamp to secure her food dish; I don’t have to wipe bits of soggy kibble from the wall and floor after she’s eaten. Isis is eating like a ordinary dog.
I am absolutely delighted.
And it’s only taken eight years and two months!