Hungry Like the Wolf


Life with a dog can be rather unsettling –for the stomach, that is. I was going to post about the depressing topography of my back yard, scattered with an impressive array of turds since the snow melted, but it snowed almost a foot today and the poop is hidden again. I can’t decide whether I should be grateful for the new snow or alarmed. Along with the nuggets, I’ve lost my nugget shovel, which leaves me helpless to cope with the scatological aspects of my landscaping until the next melt.

If you have a dog who likes to chew, and a bank account with no teeth, you will understand the benefit of knowing the location and business hours of your nearest farm and feed supply store. Mine is the GE Pharmacy in Edmonton, which is conveniently close to work and stocks all the things a pup likes to gnaw.

I do sometimes buy Sherman chewy treats at Walmart and other fine shopping establishments, but I think he’s outgrown their treats. The last time I sprung for something extra nice for him there, I spent $6.48 on the treat, a Nylabone edible something or other, that offered an extended chewing time of several hours or more. I need to teach Sherm to read, because it lasted him just under four minutes. That’s more than a dollar a minute, for the folks who read my blog for the math problems. The price of that chew was more per minute than I am currently paying for a litre of gasoline, and that is disgusting, considering the price of gasoline. It was sold as “wolf” size, and seemed more like a gerbil bone in practice. Sigh.

On my last trip to the GE, I picked up a few treats for Sherman. I grabbed a couple of smoked beef shins, and a dried pig ear, which doesn’t shrink down like the smoked ears and is roughly the size of a dinner plate.

I also bought him this:

The pre-chew inspection.

It’s a bison trachea. Or, if you want to sound less fancy restaurant, a buffalo windpipe. It smells about like you would expect it to. Although, frankly, I would like it should smell a bit more like grass, given the quantity of grasses in a buffalo’s diet. Please don’t get all bleeding heart, PETA pusher on me about giving the dog an animal product. Did you see The Lion King? Remember that heart-rending scene in the dry gorge? Well, buffalo-type creatures trampled Simba’s daddy. Those brutes! And now Sherman eats buffalo parts. It’s the circle of life, baby. It moves us all.

Primal urges. Very primal.

I timed the trachea’s success, and this nasty piece of cartilage lasted a whopping 22 minutes. I paid $3.50 for it. A much better value than the Nylabone, for sure. Plus, I know exactly what’s in this treat: trachea. In those Nylabones, who knows, but they sound a little shady.

Pure doggy bliss.

He’s getting back to the instincts of his ancestors. Like the wolves running wild and free, eating even the nastiest parts of their kills to survive the punishing winter cold. Devouring their prey on a big soft pillow before drinking tap water out of an Ikea bowl and falling asleep next to the heat register. You know, really primal canine behavior.

Sherman worked steadily on his gnarly treat, which looks for all the world like a beefy hunk of dryer hose, and he seemed like the happiest, nastiest dog on the block. I may regret it later, when he serenades me in the night with trachea scented puppy farts, but the look on his spotted face melts my heart.

Stay tuned for more disgusting fun here at Bluespeckledpup. We offer goodies for only the most refined palates.

copyright 2011:  http://bluespeckledpup.com

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