Dear Spoiled Dogs,

Daddy & I love you very much. Without condition, actually.  We give you love. We give you lots of toys and play with you. We make sure your health is top-notch and take you to the vet. Often. Pretty sure we’ve put at least one of his kids through Texas A&M by now. We buy you expensive tempurpedic beds with fancy covers to keep you warm and comfy while you snooze during the mild Texas winters. You have cots upstairs and downstairs to keep you cool and comfortable while you sleep the rest of the year.  Heck, we even let you on the furniture!

We bought you two bowls that have a freezing element to keep your water cool for you. I switch out your crate pails every other day. I do as much laundry for you as I do for us, and you don’t wear clothes! We feed you premium, incredibly expensive dog food to give you the maximum nutrition while keeping your ‘bulldog bulge’ to a minimum. It also reduces health issues and cuts our vet bills in half. We do all this because we love you and want you to have the best life possible. But now you’ve crossed the line.

For the last few months, you’ve decided you didn’t like your dry dog food. We tried several, to spark your interest. You’d eat that new variety for a few days, and then you’d just stop. We’d take you to the vet to be sure it wasn’t something physical. Was it gastro-intestinal problems? Nope. Dental issues? Nope. Something else? Nope. $150 each time to be assured you had clean bills of health and were only living up to your stubborn bulldog reputation.  “Gradually mix the new food in with the old food.” Sure. Great advice if your dog will eat. But noooo, you would not. So we bought canned food to mix in. For a few days, you’d eat it. Then… back to rebellion.

We bought expensive dehydrated food that we mixed fresh daily. Spoiled Dog 1, you got over it first, and Spoiled Dog 2, you finally caved in solidarity to him and stopped eating it, too.  I scrambled eggs for you. That worked for a day, here and there. I made homemade food with recipes from Pinterest using my crockpot. You’d eat that, and leave the kibble behind, even when we mixed it well.  And then you’d just stop eating it altogether. We tried a bit of bacon grease on top. I roasted whole chickens and de-boned them and even with fresh chicken, you would stop eating after a few days.  You weren’t consistent about anything except french fries, but that’s not good for you (or us) so that’s not the solution.

The result? Momma is over it. Over. It.  Therefore, the last few days, you’ve been given your dry kibble with just a bit of coconut oil sprinkled on top in the morning. You see, I’m tired. I’m tired of scrambling eggs. I’m tired of cooking chicken and de-boning it. I’m tired of spending half my grocery budget on ingredients to make you homemade dog food. I’m tired of guessing what you will eat. I’m tired of wrapping up bowls and putting them in the fridge to hopefully coax you to eat later. I’m even more tired of all the food wasted. We will do what it takes to make you happy, to make you want to eat, but you need to meet us halfway. And you haven’t. So I am done. We are at what is politely known as a standoff.

If you eat your morning bowl of kibble? Great. If you don’t? That’s on you. Meanwhile, I’m no longer checking to see if you have eaten anything and I’m not worried about refrigerating what you didn’t. I’ve thrown out zero bowls of food this week. ZERO. That’s kind of nice. Maybe this 30lb bag of $70 dog food will last a whole month. Not that we mind spending that on you, if you eat it. But you don’t, so we’d rather spend $70 on something that will be appreciated.

It’s harsh, I know. You’ve never been treated like this before. Daddy did warn you not to piss off the Momma. Now you know why. See, Daddy is picky, too, and it’s already a pain in my butt to figure out healthy, nutritious food that he will eat. I don’t need you piggy-backing on this phenomenon. I don’t have that much sanity.

Please know that we still love you. This is not about not loving you. This is about the sanity of Momma. It would be awfully difficult to snuggle you and kiss you and give you love if I’m residing in the insane asylum.

Eat your kibble.

Love,

Momma

P.S. Yes, I caved this morning and scrambled you eggs. You were so cute standing behind me as I made my breakfast, that hopeful look on your face, the big, sad, watery puppy dog eyes that I caved. I’m not proud of it. But I do love you.