A New Level Of Snobbery

Well, dear reader, we have reached a new pinnacle of snobbery here on the farm. Our senior pit bull, Chubby, who is Jordan's BFF and soulmate, is now fifteen years old. That is ancient in dog years and remarkable for a dog his size. Although our old man is practically deaf, or perhaps more accurately, his always selective hearing is now more selective, and his sad little eyes are layered with cataracts, the old man continues to bounce around like a pup when the mood and situation suit him. He can't hear us call for him, but rattle a snack bag and the old man is at your side, whining and begging. He no longer chases chipmunks, but he can still see a laser pointer and chases it as a cat chases a mouse. He's always been a unique dog, actually more cat-like than man's best friend. However, he adores Jordan and continues to be found wherever she is, whether it is in the house or outside. 

Chubby has always had a high predatory instinct. We affectionately call him our killing machine. The Chubs was the best farm dog in his prime. He would patrol the property, hunting down anything he felt was a danger: raccoons, opossums, groundhogs, and squirrels. In the spring, when everything awakens, our front yard would look like a bone yard littered with dead carcasses and bones. Chubby was also particularly partial to anything dead, rotting, and at the peak of decomposing ripeness. Dead animals, deer legs, intestines, you name it, if it was gross, he carried it home like a prize. Taking his prize finds away from him is unheard of and impossible. He lies on top of them, and if you walk in his general direction, he prances off to the farthest corner of the yard. 

I ask, dear reader, that you keep Chubby's dietary preferences in mind. Sigh. Our Chub-Man is looking very thin. I call him our little stegasaurus because his spine predominantly protrudes. Because of his dietary preferences, he is on a regular deworming schedule, so I knew he didn't have worms. I am assuming he is thin because he is the equivalent of 120 years old in human years. I decided our old man needs supplemental nutrition and a diet adjustment to help him regain some of the weight he has lost. We feed our boys the food our veterinarian recommends and give them supplements to support joint health. Buster also has to take supplements for anal gland issues. The Bibbed Wonder says we spend a small fortune to keep my ill-behaved, fat bastard's a**hole healthy...he's not wrong. I love my boy, anal glands and all. However, I digress. We do our best to take care of all our animals. 

I went to the store and purchased the same brand of soft dog food as their kibble. I picked up a variety pack of six cans each of beef and rice and chicken and rice. It just so happened that the first cans I fed Chubs were beef and rice. He devours his food. I mix the canned food with his kibble and add two fresh eggs. The Bean and I believe Chubby looks fuller and less skinny after just a week. However, we are now out of beef and rice and only have canned chicken and rice. Chubby will not touch the soft chicken and rice. He sniffs it, looks at me like, "Are you kidding me?" whines, and walks away. So, Buster gets a treat of chicken and rice. Although my fat man really does grow a brisket in the winter. I have to be careful how much I feed him. I am shocked by Chubby's snobbery. For real, the dog eats rotting a**holes for fun and calls it a good time! Suddenly, he has developed a discerning taste for what he eats. Sigh...he is spoiled. 

I made a special trip to town to pick up more beef-and-rice soft dog food for our spoiled old man. The brand also offers duck, turkey, and quail, but I am sticking with beef. When I fixed Chubby's meal, he ate it with zeal and licked the bowl clean. He also looked at me as if to say, "Much better. I will keep you for a bit longer, puny human. Now, go turn on my heated bed. I desire warmth." He's a lot. However, his unconditional love and devotion to our girl make him worth every ounce of effort. I'm unsure how much longer our Chub-Man will be with us, but we will certainly do everything possible to keep him healthy and comfortable. I am also certain that not an ounce of appreciation will be shown for said effort, but that's okay. He's a good boy...mostly. 

On this sunny Thanksgiving Eve, stay safe, be smart, feed those you love well, and keep washing your hands.