Stove Top Dog Food

Some dogs will eat anything and all that you can give them. My current six dogs are like that. Nothing pleases them more than a bowl full of whatever I put in it. They sit with quivering haunches and drooling lips (the drool extends to the floor) while I scoop it up. They wait wide-eyed as I place it on the floor in front of them, then dive in when I say, "okay." In seconds the meal is over, the bowls are licked, tails are wagging and noses are snorfling all over the floor for crumbs. This is very satisfying to me. I like feeding dogs, who, unlike my human children, actually seem grateful for my efforts to feed them nutritious meals.

And rarely are dogs problem eaters. There are some, and when you have a problem eater it is worrisome and expensive. We have had only one dog who didn't or couldn't eat what we provided, and he died very young. We are still sad about that. Some of the dogs at the shelter are problem eaters, even when we entice them with canned food, or hand feed them. But dogs in a shelter can be scared, nervous, stressed out, anxious, depressed, bored or lonely. Or all of the above. And unlike people, who tend to want to stuff their faces with food when we are depressed, sad dogs simple lose their appetites.

I had a dog in my young adulthood whom I remember with great affection for many reasons. Feeding him was just one of them.

Cisco was not a problem eater, but early on he noticed that we were eating more interesting food than he was. So one night he abandoned his bowl of boring kibble and came to me and waited patiently for his portion of food from the stove top. I am a soft touch for an imploring doggy face and so I scraped some leftovers out of a pot and stirred them into his food. This quickly became a habit. I poured kibble into Cisco's bowl. Cisco would sniff, sigh, then walk over to the stove and sit and stare at the stove top. One night there was no pot on the stove and there were no leftovers. In a moment of inspiration, I put an empty pot on the stove, stirred up nothing with a wooden spoon, then scraped the invisible gravy over his kibble. Cisco wagged his tail, strolled over to his bowl and scarfed all the kibble down.

Well, it worked once, I thought, but it won't work again. But it did. Every time. I still smile when I think about it.