Vol. 22, No. 5,514 - The American Reporter - September 7, 2016



by Erik Deckers
American Reporter Humor Writer
Syracuse, Indiana
January 11, 2002
Make My Day
DO THEY HAVE CAT-FLAVORED DOG FOOD?

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SYRACUSE, Ind. -- There are three pivotal decisions in a person's life: when to get married, when to have children, and whether to own a dog or turn evil and own a cat instead. After I got married, I realized how lucky I was when my wife said, "Let's get a dog."

Of course, the decision was an easy one, since I'm allergic to cats. And while cats are cute and fluffy, their cold aloofness is more annoying than listening to Carol Channing and Paul "Pee Wee Herman" Reubens debate the merits of "tastes great, less filling" for six hours. No sir, give me the neediness and co-dependence of a dog any day.

The first dog we ever got was a Beagle puppy named Millie, who has been the topic of several columns in the past. But sadly she passed away last year. So when we were finally ready to get another dog, we knew we could never have anything but another Beagle.

So we brought another puppy into our lives, Hannah. And although Hannah was a cute puppy, she apparently was not a Beagle, but appeared to be a mixed-breed of a wild dingo and Freddy Krueger. And although we vowed to stop getting dogs altogether, when we heard that one of Millie's sisters was having puppies, we were first in line to get one of her nieces. We knew it was sappy and sentimental, but we figured that if Hannah didn't workout, we always had a back-up. I can reveal these family secrets now, since my dogs don't read my column anyway, the ungrateful monsters.

You've heard the saying that it's possible to get too much of a good thing. And while I rarely find that to be true in the case of money, back rubs, or pepperoni and green olive pizza, owning two dogs isdefinitely one of those instances. After we brought Macy home, we became the poster children to the finger-wagging good time teetotalers who were more than happy to point out that there you can indeed have too much of a good thing and it just peed on our rug.

Don't get me wrong. I love my dogs, and the house would be empty without them. It would also be quiet, calm, peaceful, serene, placid, relaxing, and I could sleep for more than six hours without a trip outside, but I wouldn't enjoy it for more than two months, three months tops. Possibly four.

If my wife had her own column, it would be at this point that she would tell you that the correct spelling of our second dog is Macey with an 'E.' However, she doesn't have her own column, so the dog's name is Macy, and my way is the right way. After many discussions, we have agreed to disagree on how the dog's name is spell, and have just sort of let it go. We decided it wasn't that important, since Macy is so stupid, teaching her how to spell her own name is not very high on our list of priorities. We're still trying to potty train her.

All right, all right, I admit it, I'm an abject failure! Our dog is eight months old and still isn't house-broken. Put me in the same group s the parents whose five year olds are still sucking on pacifiers, my eight-month-old dog - who is the equivalent of a seven year old child in dog years ... months - can be counted on to leave at least one surprise for my wife and me to clean up by the end of the day. (Before anyone says anything, "my wife and me" is grammatically correct.)

We take Macy out several times a day at regular intervals, give her plenty of love and attention, and make sure she is properly fed and watered. But somehow, she manages to sneak one in there and wet her house, so that when we come home, she's dancing in the puddle, eagerly wagging her tail, and trying to soak as much pee into her paws as possible so that when she jumps up to greet us, she's sure to leave a couple of good wet footprints.

Despite all her faults, she's not nearly as bad as Hannah, who like a majority of dogs, eats her own poop. I know this is icky, but for those of you who continued reading beyond that last sentence, let me assure you that a huge percentage of dogs do this. It's actually pretty uncommon for dogs not to do it. So before you write anyangry letters, ask yourself, have you ever found dog poop on your kitchen floor while you were house training your dog? If the answer is no, consider that mystery solved.

But Hannah, the disgusting little monster, happens to be one of the millions of dogs that do. In fact, so many dogs engage in this nasty habit that someone actually invented a product to prevent them from doing it. There are even home remedies for it, including feeding the dog green beans, or pouring a little meat tenderizer on their food, but we've never tried any of them.

We figure that if she does it, it just makes cleaning up a lot easier.

Macy, on the other hand, doesn't even like to go near it. She wouldn't dream of eating anything that didn't come out of a bag or falloff the table. On the other hand, she loves cat food. The dogs' groomer has a kennel and cat rescue facility, so she has cat food in bowls allover her shop.

This creates a small problem whenever I take the dogs to get groomed. As soon as we walk in the door, Macy races over to one of the bowls and crams as much cat food into her mouth, knowing that she only has a few seconds before I pull her away.

Even as I pull on the leash, she's straining to get back for just one more bite. Hannah, on the other hand, won't even touch the stuff, and will recoil in disgust if she's within three feet of it.

Which raises an interesting point: Which is worse, a dog that doesn't eat her own poop, but will kill herself trying to eat cat food, or a dog that eats her own poop, but absolutely refuses to go near cat food? While this says a lot about the dog, it actually says a lot more about the cat food.

TV announcer: That's right, three out of four dogs prefer new "Purr-Fect" brand cat food with new tuna and chicken flavors. The other dog just eats poop. So unless your dog is a disgusting, dirty, vile poop eater, pick up a brand of "Purr-Fect" brand cat food for your dog today. It's purr-a-licious!

Copyright 2016 Joe Shea The American Reporter. All Rights Reserved.

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