Thursday, October 25, 2007
My dog is hopped up on meat.
Tonight he consumed raw beef hearts in blood sauce topped with egg yolk and crushed shells. I figured after dinner he'd curl up in front of the fireplace and pass out.
Instead he jogged in, rubbed his forehead vigorously on the couch, tried to lick his gross e coli salmonella giardia saliva on me (I dodged in time), and began doing this funky new thing where he prances and shakes his head at the front door.
We've taken, so far today, one hike and one walk. He's spent the day playing and lounging with his girlfriend. The backyard is always open to him. There is absolutely nothing fun going on right now on our block.
That's how I know it's the meat talking.
I open the door, tie him to the porch leash, and shiver under a blanket on the couch while he lies on the entry rug, basking in the moonlight. He occasionally raises his head to growl at imperceptible threats.
Heartbreaking, really. To see a fine mind like that (he can discern between "ball" and "frisbee") be destroyed by a deadly mixture of enzymes and amino acids. Tomorrow I'm going to try to bring him down slowly with some chicken wings and a turkey neck.
In the meantime, I'm pouring hydrogen peroxide and vinegar all over my formerly vegan kitchen.