Several weeks ago, April 21 to be exact, Oliver got into some Raisinets. Bad dog.
I know the exact date because Tom and I were going to be leaving the country for 10 days on April 22. Now I was faced with the prospect of the kids watching him for a week and a half while his kidneys slowly melted into tapioca pudding. It's a thing! The internet says so!
http://www.petmd.com/dog/
http://www.vcahospitals.com/
How did that silly dog get Raisinets, you ask? Well, he drove himself to Meijer, walked down to the candy aisle, and bought them. Then he sat in the car and shoveled them into his mouth, handful after glorious, chocolatey handful, in a blissful fog of naked emotion. He was kind enough to share a small handful with me, maybe six or eight.
Okay, maybe I'm remembering that backward. Maybe I was the one kind enough to share a small handful of Raisinets with him.
Six weeks later I begin to notice lumps on his lower back, right about the place where I would keep my kidneys if I were a dog. Moreover, the right lump is larger than the left. No harmless lipomas, these; they are firm, almost muscular. In fact, except that the right one is noticeably larger than the left, I would have assumed that that is where extra handsome dogs grow their extra handsome muscles.
I did my best for a few weeks to convince myself that indeed, these were muscles I was feeling on his back, that maybe to keep his sides balanced we need to start walking counter-clockwise around the park rather than our usual clockwise route. But visions of grossly enlarged, only partially functioning kidneys began invading my dreams at night, and so I finally succumbed to my raisin-chocolate-guilt and took him to the vet yesterday.
As it turns out, that part of the back is not where dogs keep their kidneys at all. (Dogs are, in fact, quite sneaky about where they hide their kidneys.) Nor is it where they grow extra handsome muscles. The fact of the matter is that that part of the back is where they keep…fat. That's all, just fat, kind of like our love handles. And now what cost me $48 to learn, I am telling you for free.
So, my dog is too fat. Shhh, don't let him hear us talking about it. We don't want to hurt his feelings. I'm sure he has no idea; all his clothes still fit perfectly. But I am now on a mission to correct the problem. In fact, as testament to my complete and utter devotion to this precious little beastie and at great sacrifice to myself, I hereby commit my summer to getting him in shape. By the time I'm done with him, he will be a lean, mean, licking machine.
Because, of course, in this relationship, he is the only fatty.
I know the exact date because Tom and I were going to be leaving the country for 10 days on April 22. Now I was faced with the prospect of the kids watching him for a week and a half while his kidneys slowly melted into tapioca pudding. It's a thing! The internet says so!
http://www.petmd.com/dog/
http://www.vcahospitals.com/
How did that silly dog get Raisinets, you ask? Well, he drove himself to Meijer, walked down to the candy aisle, and bought them. Then he sat in the car and shoveled them into his mouth, handful after glorious, chocolatey handful, in a blissful fog of naked emotion. He was kind enough to share a small handful with me, maybe six or eight.
Okay, maybe I'm remembering that backward. Maybe I was the one kind enough to share a small handful of Raisinets with him.
Six weeks later I begin to notice lumps on his lower back, right about the place where I would keep my kidneys if I were a dog. Moreover, the right lump is larger than the left. No harmless lipomas, these; they are firm, almost muscular. In fact, except that the right one is noticeably larger than the left, I would have assumed that that is where extra handsome dogs grow their extra handsome muscles.
I did my best for a few weeks to convince myself that indeed, these were muscles I was feeling on his back, that maybe to keep his sides balanced we need to start walking counter-clockwise around the park rather than our usual clockwise route. But visions of grossly enlarged, only partially functioning kidneys began invading my dreams at night, and so I finally succumbed to my raisin-chocolate-guilt and took him to the vet yesterday.
As it turns out, that part of the back is not where dogs keep their kidneys at all. (Dogs are, in fact, quite sneaky about where they hide their kidneys.) Nor is it where they grow extra handsome muscles. The fact of the matter is that that part of the back is where they keep…fat. That's all, just fat, kind of like our love handles. And now what cost me $48 to learn, I am telling you for free.
So, my dog is too fat. Shhh, don't let him hear us talking about it. We don't want to hurt his feelings. I'm sure he has no idea; all his clothes still fit perfectly. But I am now on a mission to correct the problem. In fact, as testament to my complete and utter devotion to this precious little beastie and at great sacrifice to myself, I hereby commit my summer to getting him in shape. By the time I'm done with him, he will be a lean, mean, licking machine.
Because, of course, in this relationship, he is the only fatty.
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