Dogs are Delightful

Since we moved to our new house, Mitchell has been spending a lot of time snacking on our walks.


Now, Mitchell has always enjoyed grazing. Like, he eats so much grass that I used to worry (does he need more fiber? Is he constipated? Is it because he has colon cancer? Is he going to die tomorrow?). But, after 1.5 years, he's still here (maybe it's a really slow growing tumor?), and I've come to terms with his grass eating... Not to say that it isn't embarrassing when a rabbit hops directly in front of him, and instead of trying to chase it--or even noticing--he just gulps another bite of someone's lawn.

Anyway, I figured his walk-snacking--during which he burrows his nose right into the dirt--was just an attempt to get down to the lowest, juiciest blades of grass. Now, this guy will eat coffee grounds directly from the trash can, so why I thought he was being picky about getting the best grass shoots is beyond me...

Then, one day, Matt comes in from walking Mitchell. "How was your walk?" I ask.

"Good, but Mitchell was really slow because he was eating all those grasshoppers."

"What?"

"Yeah, that's what he's been snacking on -- grasshoppers. Our dog eats bugs."

Matt doesn't know this, but I hate grasshoppers. They are so smug, just staring at you with those bulging bug eyes, hopping just out of reach when you try to catch them. Regular bugs are bad enough, but smug bugs are just unbearable.

Therefore, I was actually a little bit proud that our dog was single-handedly perpetrating a grasshopper massacre. And I couldn't wait to see him crunch down on one of those suckers for myself.

I spent the next days carefully watching every time Mitchell appeared to eat anything on our walks. Grass, discarded chicken bones (don't worry -- I pried those out of his mouth), some scraps of paper, a pebble...but I didn't see any grasshoppers. I figured they must be really small and stay really low down in the grass...

Until this morning...

...when got a good look in a sparse patch of grass and realized that what he is actually eating is bunny turds. Like, literally, the poop left by the neighborhood rabbits as they frolic around.

Delightful.

Lessons from Mitchell

Until we adopted Mitchell, I had never had a dog. I can say now that I was not really sure what to expect. To all those similarly situated, I offer these words:

1. The morning begins no later than 8:30 a.m., even on weekends. Regrettably, Mitchell did not come from his adoption agency fully trained to use human bathroom facilities and Jessica and I have been unable to encourage him to take up this civilized habit.

With predictable results

The consequence is that each and every morning Mitchell must be escorted outside to do his business no matter the harshness of the elements. Mitchell is also incapable of the noble male tradition of rising at (the unfathomably early hour of) 8:30 to stumble to the facilities and then immediately returning to bed for another 2-4 hours of blissful, beautiful sleep. Instead, he immediately demands breakfast, and by the time he’s been fed, I’m awake. Thus, I’m forced to begin every day at a time befitting a reasonable adult. Jessica is in favor of this...between the two of us, that makes one.

2. You will hold poop in your hands. Granted it will be separated by an incredibly thin scrap of plastic bag (if you are operating the doggie bag correctly), but you will still get to appreciate many subtleties (warmth, texture) of your pet’s proudest production.

This is a family blog

3. Your dog will terrify people, and that is awesome. The number of people terrified by your dog will vary depending on size, shape, and general ferocity, but rest assured that somewhere there is someone afraid of your dog. That should make you feel good. Despite Mitchell’s perpetual docility bordering on slumber, that fact that he is tall, pointy, and has large razor-sharp fangs strikes fear into many passersby. I drink in their fear.

Mitchell and I enjoy walks most afternoons

4. Looking at your dog will, in and of itself, always be funny.

Comedy Gold