Comet, judging by his appetite, is not a fussy eater. Almost three years after him joining our pack, he still enjoys pulling something from the kitchen trash. It’s why I still must remember to hide the bin in the garage when I leave the house. Together with Dexter, my bowl- clanking (he paws to indicate it’s empty) gourmand, dog food is not something that gets passed over. Of course, that is not entirely accurate, but events yesterday proved to me that what they consume is sometimes “unusual”.
Whenever my wife or I are in the kitchen, we have company. Dexter and Comet will politely sit at the far end of the kitchen but will spring forward for a piece of cheese or lunch meat which may fall to the floor. ( I will admit that sometimes I give one or both a piece of cheese that I am having for my snack.) Most of the time we will send them away with a dog biscuit, though a piece of chopped mango which fell off the cutting board did disappear from the floor. Comet denied his responsibility for this.
However, I was preparing broiled rainbow carrots for dinner yesterday afternoon, and a piece of seasoned now-tender white carrot skipped off onto the floor. I bent to pick the piece up but it was gone. Comet eats carrots!? Not to be overlooked for his treat, Dexter looked longingly at me. Albeit with less gusto, he ate a smaller piece of white carrot.
But Comet’s healthy snack contrasts sharply with something I vainly tried to get him to release yesterday morning. Our hike was in the home stretch, when he was sniffing the grass more vigorously than normal. And I caught sight of him chewing and swallowing.
The grass stalk was all I retrieved. And I smacked his nose worried that he would be puking soon. And immediately, I felt guilty. Dogs do just what dogs do. At least he didn’t roll in something as Dexter did last week. Hours later, Comet was still no worse for wear. Whether his snack was poo, dead bird, or rotting bit of sandwich along the trail, I don’t know. But neither dog will ever after convince me they have finicky tastes.