If you own a Labrador retriever, you know that no food is off limits to the breed. I mean no food. And I include food that is intended for other species.And things that are not food at all.
At this very moment, I am watching my 70-pund fat Labrador grazing on the patio for acorn shells. You read this right: not the acorns which might provide some meager nutrition but rather, the shells, which as far as I can tell, stand a 50% chance of clogging a bowel tract.
Perhaps your dog eats anything but I doubt it.
Eight years ago this puppy dragged me into the vet’s office whereby I tripped over the doorstop and took a flying header into a cardboard display for Heartworm medicine. As a seasoned English maven, I know a symbol when I see it, especially at 4 inches. Even at that klutzy moment surrounded by edgy veterinary techs with purple hair and piercings, down on their knees to see if the dog was OK, I knew that this photo of a large stringy worm tangled all over a dog’s heart presaged years of canine culinary disgust.
And as usual, I was right.
I’ve written before about the 10-lb weight gain that this Labrador experiences during wild turkey season when 75-100 turkeys roam our property like prehistoric idiots, leaving green dollops of protein everywhere.
I’ve written about the tandem activity of the cat and the dog in flushing squirrels out of walnut trees, a sort of farm-to-table theme, in which a falling squirrel is eaten alive while the flesh is fresh.
Half-rats, small chickadees, jalapeno peppers, worms, moldy cheese, coyote poop, salmon bones, rat poison,and paper towels all have gone down the hatch. This dog also ate a frozen dead duck—a dim sum or sorts—instead of retrieving it—a natural instinct I was told– at a field trial we attended.
I miss my Rottweilers, who boringly enough, only ate kibble.
Have a yummy weekend.