I spent a brief period of my life working in a doggy daycare. Yes, they have those for dogs. It’s sort of like pre-school, both have copious quantities of body fluids (and solids) frequent whining and their fair share of biting. The dog daycare, however, is more on the level of high school when it comes to humping and mounting. A quick spray of water puts an end to most of that behavior, a technique high schools might want to consider.
I learned plenty hanging out with dogs all day. Far more then I ever retained from undergrad biochem. I discovered the most shocking thing before a dog even passed through the daycare doors. While training for our big opening I was given advice on how to get a dog to eat. Pardon me? Come again? I had no idea this issue even existed. I listened and nodded but inside was thinking- “Have these people never met a dog? Why aren’t they telling me important stuff?” like how to avoid getting bit in the ass (more on that later). I mean really, was this an issue? My dog does tricks for pocket lint, he firmly believes cat waste is a delicacy, he eats sticks of butter whole (again, later…). Surely this would not be something I would deal with.
As it turns out, these people were right. Some dogs don’t eat much. Especially when surrounded by 40 or more yipping, yapping playmates- none of which are particularly happy to be in their $40/night “cabin” have a “dinner rest”. When I mentioned to the owners that Maggie/Cocoa/Wrigley (they are all named Maggie, Cocoa or Wrigley around here) hardly ate a thing, nary a one of them was panicked. If my dog refused to do a high-five for aforementioned pocket lint much less blinked before he swallowed an entire meal I would have him to the vet so quick it would straighten out his little curly puggle tail.
Nope, no panic, no racing to the vet or grasping their dear companion in worry. All of these owners simply smiled and said “Oh little Maggie/Cocoa/Wrigley eats when she wants to”. In the beginning I was disturbed. Certainly these people were delusional, out of their minds with worry and fear. I tried to coax any non-eating dog to eat during his stay. I lovingly added a bit of warm water to their kibble. When that didn’t work I added the choicest spoonful of wet dog food. If all else failed I crawled in their cabin and pretended to eat their dinner. Lord knows anything I am eating requires a dog audience and an intense stare down in my house.
I learned plenty hanging out with dogs all day. Far more then I ever retained from undergrad biochem. I discovered the most shocking thing before a dog even passed through the daycare doors. While training for our big opening I was given advice on how to get a dog to eat. Pardon me? Come again? I had no idea this issue even existed. I listened and nodded but inside was thinking- “Have these people never met a dog? Why aren’t they telling me important stuff?” like how to avoid getting bit in the ass (more on that later). I mean really, was this an issue? My dog does tricks for pocket lint, he firmly believes cat waste is a delicacy, he eats sticks of butter whole (again, later…). Surely this would not be something I would deal with.
As it turns out, these people were right. Some dogs don’t eat much. Especially when surrounded by 40 or more yipping, yapping playmates- none of which are particularly happy to be in their $40/night “cabin” have a “dinner rest”. When I mentioned to the owners that Maggie/Cocoa/Wrigley (they are all named Maggie, Cocoa or Wrigley around here) hardly ate a thing, nary a one of them was panicked. If my dog refused to do a high-five for aforementioned pocket lint much less blinked before he swallowed an entire meal I would have him to the vet so quick it would straighten out his little curly puggle tail.
Nope, no panic, no racing to the vet or grasping their dear companion in worry. All of these owners simply smiled and said “Oh little Maggie/Cocoa/Wrigley eats when she wants to”. In the beginning I was disturbed. Certainly these people were delusional, out of their minds with worry and fear. I tried to coax any non-eating dog to eat during his stay. I lovingly added a bit of warm water to their kibble. When that didn’t work I added the choicest spoonful of wet dog food. If all else failed I crawled in their cabin and pretended to eat their dinner. Lord knows anything I am eating requires a dog audience and an intense stare down in my house.
After months of coaxing and pleading with skinny poodles and rail-thin greyhounds I decided to ease up in my quest. No one had called to complain and no dog ever died of anorexia while in my care. Plus business was ramping up fast and there were bigger things to worry about, like if all the plastic end caps from the Tilly's bed were going to be seen again from that crazy black lab who clearly wasn’t going to hand them over the easy way.
During this time my work companion, Davey the puggle, came up with some highly skilled techniques for obtaining the non-eaters food. First he just howled at them, good boy that he is, as if to alert me of the clearly ill dog in cabin 10. When howling didn’t make the dog on the other side of the kennel doors sliding his bowl over with a “Here little buddy, have my dinner” Dave began to scheme. His first line of attack was brute force- rush the cabin as soon as the doors were open, grab every bit of food in his mouth and retire to a quiet corner to empty his chipmunk cheeks out and gobble the loot. We humans got wise to this one and put a stop to it almost as soon as it started.
Dave had a plan B.
He figured out that if the dish was close enough to the edge of the kennel he could slide it towards him, tip it over and eat the floor bounty that resulted. He worked the technique so well he could dump a dish and wolf it down in 5 seconds flat. I learned to lock the aisles behind me, to feed dogs in the back of their cabins, to lock Davey away during meal times. But oh the fun he had breaking in new people. He knew a rookie when he saw one and quickly learned to sit nicely during feeding time till they turned their backs. Poor suckers.
So now I know- not all dogs roll over for pocket lint. But please don’t tell my dog there is such a thing as “eating when you want to”. You will quickly see the world’s first 300lb puggle and me beside him, weeping quietly next to his bed telling the Jerry Springer-cam how he eats 2 dozen eggs a meal.
So now I know- not all dogs roll over for pocket lint. But please don’t tell my dog there is such a thing as “eating when you want to”. You will quickly see the world’s first 300lb puggle and me beside him, weeping quietly next to his bed telling the Jerry Springer-cam how he eats 2 dozen eggs a meal.