About this dying dog we have living in our house.... the one who blogs and for whom I've made a fresh vat of home made soup every week since December? Well, we took him to the "spa" (aka boarded him at the vet) over the weekend while we were out of town. First of all, they were shocked that he was still alive because he was supposed to have been gone months ago. They must have figured we disposed of him illegally (**cue cremation ash cannon here**).
Well he's apparently using some of our cat's nine lives, because she's so lazy she hasn't even worn out her first one yet. I expected him to come back from the spa all depressed with bloody paws from nervous chewing. I carefully packed his lunches and suppers (doggy hospice soup) because he wouldn't be able to eat spa kibble. We packed his favorite blanket, so if he died while there, it would be in a familiar "spot."
He came home with a bounce in his step and a gleam in his eye and some new arthritis medicine that was disallowed under my FSA. Seems to me if we can make gay marriage legal in Iowa, we should be able to put our pets on our health insurance. All is fair in love and yard apples, right?
Then the low blow...the vet told Ron Burgundy that "the better the soup smells the more he'll eat" and "he'll have a hard time chewing."
Let's get this straight. Lucky quit eating his kibble because he couldn't chew and even softened with beef or chicken broth, it did not appeal to him. He could no longer drink water because his mouth and tongue just can't handle the thin consistency. The soup is made from all fresh vegetables cooked to tender, chicken, and frozen egg noodles. TONS of vegetables and a whole chicken, stewed with all the bones to bring out the flavor, and just a pinch of salt to extract the flavors. No, it's not seasoned with thyme, marjoram, a bay leaf or a shot of hot pepper flakes like if I was making it for us. But he pants and drools and stands underfoot the whole time it's cooking. He waits patiently by his bowl to eat. He licks the "place mat" in front of his bowl if it's empty to get every last bit. And his coat is the healthiest and shiniest it's been in years. His coat loves chicken fat, apparently.
But the vet apparently doesn't think it smells good enough.
I wonder if he tasted it?
Yeah, it needs more salt. Just don't tell Lucky.
Somebody forgot to tell him he's dying, too.
Tea tonight: Green Ginger
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