Every month Charlie takes two pills. One to protect from intestinal parasites, aka heart worms, and one to protect against vectors, aka fleas and ticks. These meds are awesome. They really work well. They have few side effects, and are generally very safe. And of course, they're monthly, so its easy to administer them.
All we had to do was put a little peanut butter on the dull end of a butter knife, and push the pill in. (One med is already in a delicious chewable.) Charlie would eat it right up! It was so easy. Was.
For the last two or so months, though, he wouldn't take it. Or rather, he reluctantly took the food knowing he didn't want it, and you could see the shame in his face AS HE ATE IT.
He's so damn precious.
But today, he wouldn't take it. I tried his favorite treat, which is also peanut-butter favored. No problem. He ate it right up. When I put the real peanut butter with the pill hidden in it next to the peanut-butter treat, he took the treat.
So it hit me that a) he likes peanut butter as a flavor. Here I should note that the brand of treats only uses, "human-quality ingredients". b) the pill wasn't the problem because I took a tiny bit of peanut-butter and used it as mortar to adhere the pill to back of a treat. So, c) the peanut butter was the culprit.
But he always liked peanut butter. Until we switched brands.
I used to be a real food douche when it came to peanut-butter. Seriously. Ask the wife. My peanut-butter had to have two-- and only two ingredients -- and in the same order: Roasted organic peanuts and salt. There was no need for any oils or stabilizers. Nuts the way god intended them and salt because salt.
Now we have Jiff Organic. Whereas the prior peanut butter had the humility to disguise its quality in the ingredients list, this one brags about it on the front and in the name. (It appears peanuts are just like people.)
Yet it was worse because a little bit of sugar -- and oh did I like it -- and the stabilizers, etc, gave little Charlie the runs mornings after monthly pill day.
One organic peanut butter made Charlie sick. And one he couldn't get enough of.
My dog, who spends a truly staggering amount of time with his taste buds nearest his business end, has a more discerning palate than I do.
I really used to care more about peanut butter and now I don't. Something is wrong.
There may not be anything cuter than the face Charlie makes while completely succumbing to his inner most animal all the while knowing he will hate himself for it in the morning. I'll try to set up video next time.
I can spend a couple bucks more to not give my lil guy -- and who knows, maybe even me -- what Early Cuyler called, 'Butt Trouble'.