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Non-Fiction
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| The Dog Chef | |
| By Emmuttmax | ||||||||||||||||
| 22 September 2008 | ||||||||||||||||
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There is a fine line between madness and living with eight dogs and two cats.
The Dog Chef
I am not a bad cook, but I never set out to be the gourmet chef for dogs hat I’ve become. Since I am more responsible—or more to blame—for adopting the animals that share our house, the burden of supplying their dietary needs falls on me, at least that is what Mrs. Em tells me. The eight dogs and two cats at our house receive two meals a day. The morning meal is quite simple: dry dog and cat food in a bowl. The dogs like dry dog food about as much as they like having the cats punch them in the snout, but with little choice they will eat some in the morning. However, they will not eat just any dry dog food; it has to have natural, human-grade ingredients and contain omega-3 oils, fortified vitamins, the tears of Swedish virgins, the sweat of kosher homing pigeons, and other supplements. These gastronomical pellets cost about $50 for a 40-pound bag. Ed the basset hound eats all his morning food and then consumes the leftovers the other dogs leave, which is a considerable amount. When Mrs. Em leaves for work, the dogs also receive a dog biscuit. Bill and Catherine, the two cats, wander in after the dogs have finished, and they consume small quantities of dry cat food. Lethargy ensues. Around 5:00 in the afternoon, the cats return home from their daytime jobs as garden ninjas and demand supper be served. Fulfilling the cats’ demands it quite simple: I open two cans of Fancy Feast and place the contents in two separate crystal bowls and place them on the counter. Bill inhales his meal then tries to eat half of Catherine’s until she gets pissed and slaps him. Preparing the dogs’ evening meal is not quite so simple. As I mentioned, the dogs that live with me have individual tastes, but one thing they all agree on is they must have meat each day or I will find unwanted surprises in my shoes. I tried throwing live chickens in the kitchen and let the pack hunt them down and feed, but it seems they were afraid of live chickens and Mrs. Em was not amused by my culinary short cut. I have been forced by members of my household to become a private dog chef. Although I try to vary the menu for the dogs’ evening meals, they start with a few basics. A small amount of dry dog food is added to their bowls, except for Gizmo; he will only eat Moist & Meaty brand semi-dry food. Next, I sauté the meat, which is usually ground beef, ground turkey, or chicken I have boiled earlier in the week and diced into little cubes. As the meat is cooking, I prepare the vegetables. Carrots and red potatoes are their favorites, but some of them will eat squash, celery, yams, green beans, kidney beans, and tomatoes. Gizmo won’t eat anything that is yellow. Once the veggies are ready, I put them on top of the dry food, and by then the meat is cooked so I divide it up between the eight dogs. On top of the meat, I add a spoonful of expensive canned dog food and top it off with a bit of cottage cheese. Occasionally I will add rice, pasta, or leftover food from a human meal. Before serving the food to the dogs, I use my hands to mix it all together. I do this to put my scent on their food; it re-enforces my position as pack leader. Ed is served first. He is the largest dog, and gets the largest portion. Pathetic Bob is next, but he usually only sniffs at his bowl at first, trying to determine if I have added his sensitive palate might not appreciate. Judy the mutt is next, followed by Zipper, Paco, and Lily. Sophie, the basset-corgi mix will not come into the kitchen until the other dogs have begun their meals; she actually prefers to dine on the other side of the counter, and I usually oblige her. Gizmo will not eat out of his bowl so I hand feed him. Once the feed has begun, Pathetic Bob, Zipper, and Lily become convinced I have given the other dogs something better than what is in their bowls so they begin the round-robin bowl dance. Ed is too engrossed in wolfing down the stuff in his large bowl to noticed anything except an intrusion into his dining space, which results in a severe reprimand on his part. Sophie is peacefully behind the counter eating her dinner in a very ladylike manner. While all this is going on, I am on the floor feeding Gizmo by hand. It seems I am the only one who he will take food from, which irritates Mrs. Em. Pathetic Bob and Zipper are soon convinced I am offering Gizmo “special” goodies and insist on being handfed, too. Bob will stand there with that pathetic look on his face until I reach into his bowl and offer him a handful. He snatches it and swallows with gusto. When Ed finishes his meal, he tries to intimidate the smaller dogs into giving up their dinner, but it usually doesn’t work. When Gizmo has had enough, he walks away and goes outside to do his business, unlike Ed who transacts business wherever the mood strikes him. Pound for pound, Paco the Chihuahua eats more than any of them. He starts with his own bowl, but before the meal is over, he has sampled everybody’s dish but Ed’s. Sophie is the designated clean-up diner. She comes into the kitchen after everyone his had his or her fill and shovels any leftovers into her beautiful face. When the meal is complete, lethargy ensues…at least for the dogs. In addition to my job as chef and waiter, I am also the busboy and dishwasher. Cooking for dogs can be quite rewarding. When I create a particularly well-crafted repast, my reward comes from the exuberance with which the savor their meals. However, I do feel my effort as the wait staff and kitchen clean-up crew deserves a tip. I am not going to push it though, I am afraid the tip they leave may be left in my shoe.
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