Many years ago I had a beagle named Annie. She was smart, loyal, playful and got along well with the rest of my pack 4 in all. But shortly after bringing her home I noticed she had a problem. She couldn’t stop eating. No matter how many times I’d refill the food bowls she would empty them, to the point of her own misery. She couldn’t stop, she was an addict. I talked to the vet and she suggested a monitored feeding, no more leaving bowls of food out. Everyone had to learn to eat one time a day and only their portioned amount. Needless to say the other dogs were baffled, they were use to getting a snack whenever they wanted. Annie’s inability to control herself essentially placed the entire canine crew on a diet. So this was the new norm. Dinner time in 4 separate bowls spaced out in the kitchen, synchronized eating. It played out like a hot dog eating competition. Who could finish first? Now, although this prevented her from over eating her food it didn’t stop the urge.
Fast forward a few months and I went out of town for the night. The dogs were left outside, I had planned on returning early the next morning. So I’m standing on my porch fumbling for my keys and I can hear the dogs are in the house. “That’s odd” I thought… “how did they get in the back door was locked.” As I swung open the door that entered the kitchen and provided a full view of the living room, dining room and hall I couldn’t believe my eyes. Everywhere I looked there were wrappers & crumbs strung through the house. It looked like bags of garbage had been ripped open and tossed around in a frenzy. The back door was wide open and there was Annie with her butt sticking out of a family sized bag of Lay’s potato chips. The other dogs came running to greet me. They sensed I was upset and all started barking, I don’t speak dog, but It felt like they were ratting her out. From what I could deduce, from the scene of the crime, is that the back door was pushed open, apparently because it didn’t latch when I locked it. After careful inspection of the evidence; nutter butters, fruit snacks, pop tarts, chips… someone had accessed the kids snack cupboard. Outside of a few Vienna sausage cans, the cupboard was bare! Short of taking prints and with no witnesses who spoke English, the ring leader was never positively identified. The circumstantial evidence pointed to Annie but not enough to convict. But sometimes offenders re-offend.
Fast forward a few months later and It’s the night before Thanksgiving. I’m in the kitchen making last minute preparations for the feast. Earlier that day I had picked up a fried turkey from a friend to serve as the centerpiece of the celebration. It was in the fridge nestled between the deviled eggs and ham rolls. I was busy baking pies and finishing up desserts. I worked methodically from the fridge to the stove turning ingredients into works of art. I was in a zone, humming festive music and checking things off in my head when I turned around and saw Annie. As before, I saw her butt first, tail just a wagging with her muzzle buried deep in the breast of my turkey. The movie “a Christmas Story” flashed before my eyes. I yelled at her to stop and she ignored me like a petulant child. I grabbed her collar and pulled her off the bird to inspect the damage. It was bad, how she ate that much that quickly is a mystery. There was no saving it. So off to the store I go to buy a 14lb turkey that I can thaw and cook hours before morning. The jury came back on the cold case of the great snack cupboard debacle. The perpetrator has now been positively identified.
I had Annie for many years and this behavior never changed. I once found her on the table eating a stick of margins from the butter dish. She ate the kids scented lip glosses that were wrapped under the tree one year at Christmas. No matter what it was, if it smelled good, she ate it. There were many trips to the vet and many doses of puppy pepto to ensure she hadn’t eaten herself into a stomach explosion or other deadly situation. I believe she was brought to me by the universe. I was uniquely equipped to deal with her nonsense. I was never really angry with her, she couldn’t help it, she knew not what she did. She was an addict. How that occurred will always be a mystery, my vet suggested that she may have some frontal lobe damage causing her to not register when full. Perhaps she was denied food before I got her and her inner puppies wires were crossed in her formative days. Did her mom neglect her, was she just easily bored? Maybe she was just a dumb dog with a curious nature and a knack for causing trouble.
Fast forward 20 years, Annie has been gone for awhile now. she was always one of my favorite dogs. She was loving, funny and so very sweet. My kids absolutely adored her. She was destined for my life because I too am an addict. For me it’s not just food, it could be anything really. Drinking, drugs, sex, books, shopping, writing, games…. the list is never ending. Looking back I now recognize that her and I, although completely different species, shared a very real characteristic. At the time I hadn’t admitted to myself my own shortcomings, but I somehow knew her actions weren’t out of malice and punishment wasn’t the answer. There was no amount of punishment that would have changed her behavior. So I loved her unconditionally regardless of the occasional tomfoolery she created. Perhaps Annie was brought to me so I could learn a lesson. A lesson I was to carry with me until the time was right and it would be revealed. The time being now. So in memory of my dear Annie, I will love myself unconditionally and reserve the urge to punish. I’m not acting out of malice. I’m just a dumb girl with a curious nature and a knack for trouble who happens to be an addict. Thanks Annie, I guess it’s time for me to back out of the chip bag now and recognize I’m full.
Lola Trying 