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April 1, 2015


Abbie and I were walking through the alley behind the grocery store this morning. She likes walking there because it gives her a chance to flirt with the employees who are standing around on break and maybe get some affection.

She ducked her head down and stopped to sniff something that looked like the sole of an old boot.

But it wasn’t a boot sole or any other part of a boot. It was, rather, a huge hunk of dirt-coated, well-aged roast beef. Who knows how it got there? Fell out of the trash? Got dropped when the food bank van came for a pick-up? Abbie did not care. Today was the luckiest day of her life, as far as she was concerned.

She began to hoover the nasty old meat down, pretty much without chewing. I was yelling “Put that down!” as she attempted to swallow the thing whole, knowing I was going to try to stop her.

I grabbed her face. I tried to pry her jaws open. They were clamped shut like a bear trap. I put my finger in front of her nose, assuming that if I had my mouth full and someone stopped my nose up, I would open my mouth, and if it worked for me, it would work for her.

Wrong. She was not giving up. She glared up at me. She had the Eye of the Tiger. She clamped down even harder. She even growled a little.

I determined not to let her eat some spoiled alley meat. I grabbed onto as much of it as I could and pulled. She pulled back. I was suddenly locked in a game of Alley Meat Tug-of-War.

Do you know how hard it is to hang onto a greasy meat flap when your 60-pound dog is fighting for the right to party with some delicious chow, especially when you don’t really want to have your hands full of greasy spoiled meat?

We tugged and pulled. She kept gaining on me. She wasn’t going to let her prize go without a fight.

Finally, I conceded. The dog had me beat. 1.4 seconds later, the nasty hobo meat was in her belly and I was wondering what the hell I should wipe my hand on (for the record, there was nothing. I let Abbie lick my hand and called it clean).

I spent the day waiting for the inevitable consequences, the volcano of badness spewing from one end of my dog or the other. But guess what? Nothing! I guess all that hard training she has put in eating cat poop every day has strengthened her system.

Tell me again why I waste my money on that premium grain-free dog food?

  1. Anonymous permalink
    April 1, 2015 21:15

    Ewww…… the story but LOve your web page Sue.

  2. Al_Pal permalink
    April 2, 2015 01:16

    Hilarious and gross. Heh. 😉

  3. Gretchen permalink
    April 2, 2015 04:17

    Been there, done that, but with some nasty flattened furry thing. I won, but it was not pretty.

  4. April 2, 2015 07:04

    It has gotten so normal for me to pry open Josephine’s mouth and fish out what ever she’s chewing on. I realized that I’m that mom who uses her own sleeve to wipe a kid’s runny nose. The other day I fished out a rabbit’s tail. I did a moderate amount of gagging with that one.

    • April 3, 2015 17:36

      Wow. I think Josephine wins the gross-out contest with that one.

  5. jane_gassner permalink
    April 2, 2015 11:48

    I’m still laughing. Out loud. I think you’re on your way to The Book of Abby. I’d buy it in a heartbeat.

    • April 3, 2015 17:36

      Thank you. She certainly deserves her own volume. Today’s chapter: if you can’t attack the UPS man, attack the cardboard box he brought.

  6. April 21, 2015 09:33

    I wish there was some way to tell which ones have the iron stomachs and which do not. Emily could eat anything, and often did. Hardly ever did her wrong. Not surprised to hear that Abbie is a survivor!

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