The Ritual of Sharing

OK, so call us bad dog parents if you like, but we enjoy sharing our people food with Chili, just like we did with Ruby. The only thing is....Ruby was a seagull, and Chili....not so much. There’s kind of a ritual to sharing your food, you and your dog, hanging out together. You pick up one fry, dip it in ketchup and eat it yourself. Then you pick up another, dip it in ketchup and give it to the dog. Then there’s the complete look of disbelief you get from your dog when you forget to dip it in the ketchup. “Whoops, sorry, forgot.”

Whatever Brad ate, Ruby ate, even if she didn’t enjoy it. The sour face she would put on when she was given a pickle was priceless. She didn’t have to eat it, but she would. After all, her Daddy just ate one and whatever Daddy would eat, Ruby would eat. The only things she wouldn’t eat was lettuce and medication. We would give her a piece of hamburger on the bun with all the fixins. She would swish that thing around in her mouth, chew a bit, then spit the lettuce out. It would just fly right out. She would do the same thing if I put any pills in her food. She ate so fast I don’t know how she even knew something was in there, but there she was, frantically eating her meal and somehow out the pill would fly.

Chili would like to eat everything we eat, but she has a more refined palate and more things upset her belly. In the days when we would share with her she was still picky. She’s the put it in her mouth, spit it out, sniff it, pick it up again, spit it out, eyeball it, then maybe eat it kind of girl. Can you believe that she’s even done this with fresh raw bones? I’ve stood there amazed as she’s sniffed a nice big raw knuckle bone, then given it a few licks, walked away and turned her back on it. “You are a dog, right?” Yes, the mysteries of Chili.

A few months back when Chili was diagnosed with pancreatitis, we stopped sharing food with her. If she really did have it, then we didn’t want to be contributing to her getting sick. This was not an easy thing to do. She still looks at us with those big eyes, then her Dad looks at me with big eyes. “Can’t I give her some?” She knows which one of us is the weakest. The thing is, I want to give her something. I want to share with her. I don’t, but I want to. OK, she does get the odd thing, but we’re definitely more careful about what the odd thing is. Sometimes I’ll even get a few nuggets of her food and just give her a piece now and then while we’re snacking on something else. It’s not the same though. She knows.

Many of my animal memories from growing up involve food. We always had cats and we shared with them. Or they would just take it. I can’t count how many times I would be holding food and a cat paw would come out of nowhere, claws would sink into my hand, and then drag it over to the waiting cat who would just eat the food as if I didn’t matter. Then there was the ice cream truck that would always stop when Toke the Great Dane would run over. He’d be standing by the truck, then a hand would come out of the window with a huge soft serve ice cream on the cone and Toke would lick it up.

When you really look at it, they’re all rituals of some kind. The things that made us smile, or just the things that we lived with, like ninja cat paws, that we secretly loved. Enjoy them, they make great memories.