I was carrying on a long-distance chat with my wife Maggie from the living room while she was in the kitchen preparing dinner for our Shar-pei Bingo. The beeping of the microwave oven seemed out of place and caught my attention. Sharing the microwave
with dog food"You're not microwaving his dog food, are you?" I asked incredulously.
"Of course I am," she said. "He doesn't like it cold. I always warm up his dog food before I feed him."
My stomach initiated a retch that is still seizing up my throat as I write this. When I think of all the food I've eaten that I cooked in that microwave, I feel like I should have my gastrointestinal tract power-cleansed with a fire hose.
I'm a vegetarian, but that's not why I feel this strongly. I accept that Bingo is a carnivore by religion and don't begrudge him his meat.
It's just that there's little in this world that disgusts me more than the smell of the putrefied animal byproducts they call canned dog food. In my opinion, a tin of Pedigree looks and smells worse going into the dog than it does coming out the other end.
I pick up Bingo's droppings without complaint. Just don't ask me to get the process started by opening him a can of Mighty Dog. I don't want to look at it, smell it or deal with the additional flies that join the ones Bingo attracts on his own. I certainly don't want my microwaved veggies infused with essence d'Alpo.
This is the latest chapter in a long disagreement I've had with Maggie about dog food.
I'm an advocate of plain, premium kibble, which probably has as much meat in it as the canned stuff. I think that with a healthy blend of dry food, a dog will eat what he needs to maintain his ideal weight and gain all the energy he needs to sustain a daylong nap.
"But he gets bored eating the same thing every meal," Maggie protests.
"Nonsense," I reply. "Dogs are notorious creatures of habit. They hate surprises. Besides, Bingo doesn't have the minimum intelligence necessary to support boredom."
It falls on deaf ears. Maggie takes it as a personal failure when she doesn't think he's eating enough. It has sent her down the slippery slope of spiking his kibble with tastier canned food. She hovers over him like my Jewish grandmother cajoling him to eat every bite. Of course he always leaves some just to spite her. She writes me doleful e-mails many mornings saying, "All of my stocks are down and Bingo didn't eat his breakfast."
When we went out of town once and had to board the dog, it was a test of love to stand by her side when the kennel asked what Bingo eats. Most people just tell them their kibble brand. Maggie gave them the kibble along with a bag of assorted table scraps. The fun part was when she tried to explain the secret recipe that will entice him to eat.
I'm sure they tossed it all in the dumpster as soon as we left and the poor little fellow didn't eat until we got back.
WHEN Maggie took a trip with some friends, I saw my chance to set things right. I fed him kibble spiked only with a little beef broth. The idea was to reduce the amount of broth each day until he was back on straight kibble.
It was working as planned until a horrified Maggie returned home and doubled up her supply of canned food.
While Bingo's eating habits remain the same, mine have changed.
Not only am I a vegetarian but, now that I know my microwave has been so foully contaminated, I eat the vegetables raw from the refrigerator.
David Shapiro is managing editor of the Star-Bulletin.
He can be reached by e-mail at editor@starbulletin.com.
Previous Volcanic Ash columns