As befits Texans, the cats adore guacamole, it's one of the things they'll open the fridge for if I've made a fresh batch. All the dogs drink coffee (like they need it!) and Sascha the Ridgeback mix esp likes eggnog (as do the cats, yeehaw). The Mals also love asparagus, with predictably stinky results, broccoli, cauliflower. Allie will eat a whole package of Stella D'Oro breakfast treats (for humans). I haven't caught any one in the act but one of the dogs opened the fridge in the mud room and eggapaloosa ensued.
Rowan the Red Mal, however, gladly passes up anything with an iota of nutritional content in favor of anything made of plastic or latex. I have to hide shopping bags and dispose of packaging material and such out of reach, none of the garden tools have handles, pails are pathetic scraps hanging from forlorn handles -- it's amazing how much plastic there is! Do not get me started on packing peanuts. He is one weird dude.
Almost as bad as the cat who licks the emulsion off photographs ...
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Friday, September 08, 2006
Rowan the Red is blooded
Rowan the Red is a goofy little boy, all floppy paws and grins. He spent several years living in a crate in someone's garage, so he doesn't know much about being a dog, playing with toys or the like. His favorite pastime has been eating plastic and playing frisbee with the food dishes. Until now.
About 5 in the morning, we were torn out of bed by the sounds of World War Three in the back yard. Huge crashes, screeches, growls, scramblings ... I ran to the door, and there stood Sascha, looking at me with totally submissive and angelic big brown eyes. Immediately I realized that something catastrophic had happened. I grabbed a flashlight and ran outside, and there was Rowan, proudly tossing around his first half-dead cat.
I know, Malamutes are predators. Rowan is my third and I've fostered several. In the abstract, hunting is fabulous and primal, and will be useful when the apocalypse comes ;-). But I just can't stand seeing cats killed. My soulmate Allie is a prodigious huntress, but was trained not to eat the indoor cats. But I know that my cats would be toast if they ever stepped paw outside.
Is there any way to train Mallies not to eat outdoor cats??? Even ones that are suicidal enough to jump a 7-foot fence?
About 5 in the morning, we were torn out of bed by the sounds of World War Three in the back yard. Huge crashes, screeches, growls, scramblings ... I ran to the door, and there stood Sascha, looking at me with totally submissive and angelic big brown eyes. Immediately I realized that something catastrophic had happened. I grabbed a flashlight and ran outside, and there was Rowan, proudly tossing around his first half-dead cat.
I know, Malamutes are predators. Rowan is my third and I've fostered several. In the abstract, hunting is fabulous and primal, and will be useful when the apocalypse comes ;-). But I just can't stand seeing cats killed. My soulmate Allie is a prodigious huntress, but was trained not to eat the indoor cats. But I know that my cats would be toast if they ever stepped paw outside.
Is there any way to train Mallies not to eat outdoor cats??? Even ones that are suicidal enough to jump a 7-foot fence?
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