Wild Kingdom, Part 2

supermacho theo fannybrice, our ferocious little cairn terrier, eats and drinks straight off the street without so much as a wayward belch. once he discovered a chicken wing and, pronto, downed it whole rather than let me pull it out of his mouth. i can’t imagine he got much gustatory pleasure from a non-chewed piece ‘o meat, but down the hatch it went. i nervously watched him for signs of distress or cracked little chicken bones in his poop. nothing. he even loves spicy food, happy to lick out dishes that have held thai, indian, chinese, vietnamese, burmese food. he’s got a weirdly long tongue that would assure him a successful career in porn, but, unfortunately, it’s only food he’s after. still, we’ve never had a better dishwasher.

his long, happy streak of wild pickings ran into a messy, stinky snag with a 2 day run (and i do mean run) of mustard consistency and colored diarrhea. in the bathroom, in the basement, during 4 middle of the night emergency trips outside. oh, my. remembering when sassafrass was a wee lass, i gave my little fourfooted one some rice as part of the b.r.a.t. diet – banana, rice, applesauce, toast. and we hotfooted over to the vet, where theo endured 2 shots, a thorough ass wiping and a spritz of fruity perfume to mask the damage. as hot pants knows, it’s hard enough to resist the unabated “feed me!” stares of a healthy pup, but when i’m under doctor’s orders to keep even his own regular gruel away, it’s heartbreaking. mr. macho was a shivering mess sitting on that nasty ice-cold metal examining table and not a single treat to reward his bravery.

for now, we’re on poop watch. as soon as he produces his normal, firm, lincoln log masterpieces, that fella’s getting some beef for sure.

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