Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Super Meat Woman vs. Chicken Foot

Like any dog, Andy will eat most anything you put in front of him.  Also whatever he finds on the kitchen floor, or the sidewalk…..or splattered against a telephone pole. I am his treat hero, since I work from home most any goodies he gets, he gets from me. This has led him to fancy that treats spring from my palms like some weirdo super power. Sometimes he just sniffs my hands, rubbing his wet dog nose on them, hoping a treat will fall out.  
Because I am meat woman. 

My husband and I went to a local farmers market to peruse, the vegetables, hemp jewelry and wooden bowls and hippies. Because that’s what farmers markets have. There is a woman there growing a handsome mustache, who makes and sells her own organic dog treats. I thought it would be a nice thing for Andy to have so we bought a bag of sweet potato goodies. Next she holds up an opaque bag, it’s heavy with something. Whatever it is, it’s greasy because it’s blotching clear spots on the bag. She tells us, they are dried chickens feet. You get 4 dismembered feet for 2 dollars.  She says, dogs love them and that it helps eliminate the waste of butchering chickens for food. My 1990’s must save the world guilty conscience kicks in and I think. 

 “Hmm, well the Indians are said to have used every part of the animals they killed. Yeah, why not? I mean I don’t want to be wasteful.” I buy a bag of chicken feet without looking at them.  And go home, feeling better  because I did my part to save the world. Buying the severed foot of a farm bird, may have stopped the polar ice caps from melting.   Perhaps.
                                           Dear gawd, they’re hideous!
I can’t say I had really given thought to what a severed chicken foot would look like. But it’s all curled up, spotty and greasy and the nails are still on it. It looks like someone bought it at a bazar to get 3 wishes off of it. 
Andy likes them, but now he wants to hide them in the couch. He has always hidden his treats before consuming them. It’s cute to watch him trot around the house with a biscuit or chew stick in his mouth contemplating where to stash it.  But now it’s like a horror movie…  
 I forbade him to take the foot on the couch.  So now when he can’t find a good enough place to hide the foot, he cries. Usually I help him, lifting pillows or his toys until he decides he can finally hide the treat. But this foot is just too nasty. 
The other day as I was working, I hear his muffled whines and his claws clicking on the ground. “Andy puppy?” I call “What’s the matter baby?” He clicks down the hall and there it is.
 The dead deformed chicken foot jutting out of his mouth. It’s just too big, it looks ridiculous. I had to help him hide it, under his rope toy. Never again!

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