Hi all. Chip here.
Various issues and topics on my mind these days. Just when I think I’ve got something figured out, another subject crowds in. Kinda like another dog I know.
Let’s start with one of my favorite subjects, food. Prue* took the photo above of me enjoying the remnants of an elk I felled earlier this week.
She’s telling me I can’t lie on her blog. When did we decide this?
To say that I enjoy my food is an understatement. I can clean a supper dish like nobody’s business. Usually, I’m done before Prue reseals the bag or returns the can to the ‘fridge. The aroma of browning hamburger drives me nuts, and I can hear the sound of a Ziploc bag opening behind closed doors and when I’m asleep and buried under a couple of pounds of doggie blanket. Yep, I’m that good.
I’m a machine when it comes to food.
I really didn’t think it was a big deal when I upchucked an entire serving of soft food five seconds after I consumed it. We dogs are pretty practical about such things and I was getting ready to take another run at it when Prue started making gagging noises and looked at me like I had two heads or something.
A “friend” (yeah, right) suggested incorporating an obstacle in my supper dish (below).
Some friend. (That’s a can of mushrooms, by the way.) In no time, I shall have a tongue as agile as a giraffe’s. Prue says she expects me eventually to be able to tie her shoelaces for her.
With the obstacle in place, it now takes minutes, not seconds, to consume my kibble. Wet food I get every now and again, in small bites and mostly from Prue’s hand. Silly, but I suppose this arrangement is better than involuntary regurgitation. Maybe you, dear readers, have come up with bright ideas to deprive, I mean, limit, food intake for your pets. Feel free to share them on our blog and/or Facebook page.
Another subject I’ve been pondering is the recent discovery here in the ‘Ville of four puppies left to freeze beside a dumpster near an industrial park. Two of the shepherd-mix babies already were dead when a kind fellow on his sanitation route discovered them. He took the surviving pair to the Kentucky Humane Society.
The circle of hell to which the perpetrator should be consigned is a question for another day.
Compassionate bipeds everywhere were outraged. The fuzzballs, named Samson and Gregory, were instant media darlings. KHS was inundated with calls from people wanting to adopt one or both.
There was so much interest in the pair, KHS decided the only fair way to place the dogs was a lottery among qualified applicants. (Story from WHAS-11, Louisville’s ABC affiliate.)
As a fellow canine, I am relieved and excited that these little guys who had such a lousy start to life are going to find great homes. I sure do wish there had been four puppies in the lottery instead of just two.
But I have to wonder if those dozens of people who contacted KHS, and possibly completed an adoption application, will consider bringing home an adult dog or cat.
Does compassion rely solely on the cute factor? I hope not.
I understand the appeal of a puppy, believe me. (I was freaking adorable, after all.) But I hope, very much, that when Samson and Gregory are no longer headlines, some of those people moved to tears by their plight will follow through on pet adoption, no matter the age or breed of the animal. There’s a great deal of love to be had from dogs and cats grateful for a warm, clean home, food in the supper dish, a lap in which to snuggle, and the occasional belly rub.
For details on adoption and on current animals who need homes, contact the Kentucky Humane Society.
*Person Responsible for Ultimately Everything