Snickers wouldn’t stop pacing by the mudroom door. My friend Marko had just walked in with a Ziploc bag of ground venison from his October harvest, and my Cavalier had clocked it before the door even closed. He sat by my feet with the exact posture he uses when he wants something. Ears back, tail … Read more
The first time I cooked chicken liver for Snickers, my Cavalier, I ruined a wooden spoon and almost lost a kitchen towel to the dog. He’d been napping in the hallway like a tiny loaf of bread. The second I peeled back the butcher paper, he teleported. Paws on the cabinet, eyes locked on the … Read more
Last Sunday I had a stockpot on the stove with beef knuckle bones, an onion, and a few carrots. Snickers planted himself under the kitchen table around hour two, eyes locked on me, doing that polite-but-extremely-loud whining thing only a Cavalier can pull off when food smells get involved. I scooped him a little of … Read more
The first time I cooked chicken thighs for Snickers, my Cavalier, it was almost an accident. I’d grabbed a family pack at the grocery store thinking I’d batch a few weeknight dinners for myself. Then I started reading about pancreatitis in dogs and how a fatty meal can trigger it, and I started looking sideways … Read more
The butcher slid the paper-wrapped bundle across the counter and shrugged. “Two dollars a pound. Nobody wants it.” I’d asked for beef liver on a whim. Snickers, my Cavalier, had been turning his nose up at his fancy “premium” kibble for almost a week. The bag cost me $68. The look on his face when … Read more
Snickers was nine months into eating the same premium kibble when I noticed the itching. Not constant. Just enough that I’d hear him scratching at 3 a.m. and roll over thinking he’d stop in a minute. He never did. I cleaned every blanket in the house. Switched detergents. Wiped his paws every time he came … Read more
Snickers was sitting on my foot. Not next to me. On my foot. Full weight, ears forward, doing that slow blink that basically translates to “I know there’s food happening up there.” I’d just gotten home from work, hadn’t even changed yet, and the treat jar on the counter was empty. Again. I’d been meaning … Read more
It was a Tuesday night when I caught Snickers going at his paws again. Not the lazy half-lick he does when he’s bored. This was the red, raw, won’t-stop kind. The kind that makes you put down your phone and actually worry. The vet said food allergies. Possibly beef, possibly chicken, possibly both. She handed … Read more
The can of pumpkin was sitting on the counter from two days ago. I’d opened it to mix a spoonful into Snickers’ dinner because his stomach had been a little off that week. Used maybe three tablespoons total. The rest just sat there in the fridge, slowly becoming my problem. I hate wasting food. Even … Read more
Snickers was having one of those mornings. You know the kind. Lying belly-up on the kitchen floor, one ear flopped inside out, watching me chop chicken thighs with the intensity of a food critic at a Michelin-star restaurant. I’d been making his meals from scratch for a while by then. Same rotation. Chicken, rice, the … Read more