I was thinking out loud about Riley’s growing love-handles in front of my son. When I got to the part about, “…and we don’t share that much human food with him,” my son disagreed.
Son: Mom, you wouldn’t believe what dad feeds him after you leave for work at night.
Me: Really? What does Dad feed him?
Son: Everything. Probably half of everything that he eats. Cereal and pastries, nuts and chips, pizza and even beer.
Me: Your dad is giving the dog beer?
And why would I be surprised. My husband is a professional chef. Food is love, food is medicine. Food heals people and connects people and saves marriages and could even lead to world peace. What did Riley need when he first came to us? Love and medicine, healing, connection and peace. My dear, sweet, compassionate husband, doing what he does best, made an obese but happy dog out of Riley.
My husband insists that he just let Riley lick a little beer out of his hand a few times, but confessed to everything else. “He is just so happy when he’s eating donuts, honey, you should see him!”
We did promise Riley that he would never feel hunger again, and that he would always be loved and a part of our family. It seems that we swung a little too far into the world of indulgence; we just couldn’t help ourselves. We were compelled to give him everything he never had, to make up for the people before us that starved him down to 48 pounds. It's safe to say he'll never see 48 again, but if we could just get him back down to 80...