Food for Thought

by Susan J. Kroupa

© Caraman | Dreamstime.com

Recently, a reviewer who otherwise liked Bed-Bugged, gently chided me for that fact that Molly often slips Doodle some of her food. The reviewer stated she didn’t agree with the author that human food was good for dogs.

I smiled because the author was just allowing the characters to act naturally.

The quickest way to turn potentially engaging characters into cardboard is to have them become puppets to mouth all the author’s pet (no pun intended) ideas.

In the Doodlebugged books, the three main characters have three different ideas about what foods should be in a dog’s diet. The boss, Molly’s father, thinks Doodle should only eat dog food. Molly acts as most ten-year-old girls might—she slips Doodle scraps and extra treats when she gets the opportunity. And Doodle, well, he views the whole dogs-shouldn’t-eat-human-food idea as selfish behavior on the part of humans. Early in Bed-Bugged, when Doodle is still getting used to his new job, the boss picks up some hamburgers on the way home from work. Doodle notes,

“I can’t help but drool for the rest of the drive back, the scent of those burgers filling the van.

Of course, it’s the same old dry dog food in my dish when we get home . . . But I’ve known since I was a pup that the bosses are stingy with their own food, which they like to say is bad for us. I wonder if they say that so they can keep it all for themselves.”

Three different characters and three different views on the issue. 

That said, since the books are aimed both at middle-grade kids and readers of all ages who enjoy gentle mysteries, I wouldn’t want to promote, through a sympathetic character, anything that could be actively harmful to dogs. It is totally within character for Molly and the boss, as reasonably well-educated dog owners, never to give Doodle chocolate. Doodle, on the other hand, notes that chocolate smells wonderful, and views the fact that humans won’t share as more proof they want to keep it all for themselves.

He’s wrong, of course. We all know chocolate is bad for dogs, just as we know we have to be careful to keep it out of reach, since many dogs will eat it given the chance. 

But this got me wondering about dogs and food and I innocently wandered over to the Internet to read about what dogs should or shouldn’t eat. Image

As Doodle would say, Whoa! I’ll leave the often rancorous dog-diet wars (Omnivore or carnivore? Higher protein or lower protein? Raw food or cooked food? Grains or no grains?) to more hardy souls.

While I don’t subscribe to the idea that dogs should never be given any human food, I believe all dog owners should know which foods can be dangerous for their pets. Most sites agree that along with chocolate, forbidden foods should include grapes, macadamia nuts, coffee, anything with caffeine or alcohol, onions and garlic, xylitol (a sugar alcohol used in gums and some candies), and yeast dough. Some add dairy products because, like humans, some dogs can have lactose intolerance. And most advise to avoid or limit very fatty foods, as too much fat in a dog’s diet can lead to pancreatitis.  Finally, never give a dog any human medicine unless it has been prescribed by a vet. Aspirin, acetaminophen, and ibuprofen lead the list of human meds that can be toxic to dogs.

The website http://hounddogsdrule.com/k9-classroom/dangerous-foods-toxic-substances/ has a colorful chart of foods that are both good and bad for dogs. Other sites might have some differences in their lists.

Meanwhile, I’ll continue slipping Shadow the occasional bite of cheese or banana.

Doodle would approve. 

Susan J. Kroupa is a dog lover currently owned by a 70 pound labradoodle whose superpower is bringing home dead possums and raccoons and who happens to be the inspiration for her Doodlebugged books. She’s also an award-winning author whose fiction has appeared in Realms of Fantasy, and in a variety of professional anthologies, including Bruce Coville's Shapeshifters. Her non-fiction publications include features about environmental issues and Hopi Indian culture for The Arizona Republic, High Country News, and American Forests.

She now lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains in Southwestern Virginia, where she’s busy writing the next Doodlebugged mystery. You can find her books and read her blog at http://www.susankroupa.com and visit her Amazon Author page at http://amazon.com/author/susankroupa. 

Skunked by Susan J. Kroupa

A beautiful day with a bright sun shining and the promise of spring in the air. The prospect of a long leisurely walk through fields and woods. 

What could possibly go wrong? 

Photo by Brian Garrett, Flickr

Skunk. 

Normally, when we start out on a walk, I have Shadow on leash. But on this day I decide to work on reinforcing his off-leash “heel”, because the previous week’s snow has melted and the mud has dried to the point that we will be able to walk over to our favorite field rather than keep to the road. 

So we set off down our driveway, Shadow cheerfully vacuuming up treats for being at my side (I really need to learn how to fade rewards), when suddenly he raises his head and takes off across our dirt road to the neighbor’s yard.  Seconds later, he’s frantically rolling in the grass, pawing at his face. Too late, I see a skunk smack in the middle of the neighbor’s yard, trotting away, tail high. In broad daylight. 

What? Skunks are supposed to be nocturnal. Later, I will read that, while normally nocturnal, skunks sometimes will come out in during the day to look for food, especially in the early spring. 

Now the day’s plan changes from walking the dog to bathing the dog, itself a form of aerobic workout. 

Shadow soaking in tomato juice.

In the last Skunked episode, the year before, as soon as I got home from our walk with a very stinky dog, I jumped online and learned about a peroxide formula that chemically changes the oil that causes the skunk’s punishing odor. But at the time, we had only a tiny amount of peroxide in the house and it was too late to get supplies at the nearest store, five miles away. It would have been an hour’s round trip to get it. 

 So instead, we foolishly bathed Shadow with dish detergent. That set the smell so effectively that multiple baths later, alternating shampoo, tomato juice and detergent (poor pup!), we realized that the only solution would be a haircut. A very short haircut. 

Extra short, please!

Fortunately, we learned from our mistake. This time, we have quarts of peroxide in stock. I make up a few gallons of the solution and a couple of treatments later, my spouse, a man with a sense of smell to rival a dog’s, declares Shadow  to be odor free. 

If Shadow were only like Doodle, the fictional narrator of the Doodlebugged Mysteries. Like Shadow, Doodle manages to get into a lot of trouble, and in this scene from Dog-Nabbed, he is lost in the woods.

“I awake several times in the night, once to the haunting sound of coyotes. I can’t tell if it’s the same pack I heard earlier or not, but I snuggle down in my hole, glad they’re too far away to be a danger. Another time, the stench—there’s really no other word—of a skunk assaults my nose. I lift my head to see one waddling to the creek. I cornered a skunk once in my service dog days. Not a good experience. Let’s just say, Lesson Learned. I watch it from my hiding place without moving.” 

Okay, maybe I was indulging in authorial wishful thinking when I wrote that. I suspect for Shadow, and for most dogs, the lesson will never be learned. So we’ve once again restocked our supplies of peroxide and baking soda. 

In case any of you have a calamitous skunk encounter—and, really, is there any other kind?—here’s the formula. 

It works. And it’s cheaper than the commercial skunk deodorizers on the market, which can be a good thing if you happen to have a big dog with a long coat. 

Especially one who, unlike Doodle, happens to be Lesson Impaired when it comes to skunks.

Susan J. Kroupa is a dog lover currently owned by a 70 pound labradoodle whose superpower is bringing home dead possums and raccoons and who happens to be the inspiration for her Doodlebugged books. She’s also an award-winning author whose fiction has appeared in Realms of Fantasy, and in a variety of professional anthologies, including Bruce Coville's Shapeshifters. Her non-fiction publications include features about environmental issues and Hopi Indian culture for The Arizona Republic, High Country News, and American Forests. 

She now lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains in Southwestern Virginia, where she’s busy writing the next Doodlebugged mystery. You can find her books and read her blog at http://www.susankroupa.com and visit her Amazon Author page at http://amazon.com/author/susankroupa. 

Excerpt from THE MONEY BIRD by Sheila Webster Boneham

In the following excerpt from The Money Bird, Animals in Focus mystery #2 from Midnight Ink (2013), animal photographer Janet MacPhail and her beau, anthropologist Tom Saunders are trying to have a quiet Sunday morning with their dogs, Jay and Drake, and Janet's cat, Leo. Good luck with that! Strange happenings at Twisted Lake have propelled them on a quest to identify an out-of-place bird, and they are about to get some help. 

Read an excerpt from the best-selling & award-winning first book in the series,  Drop Dead on Recall, HERE, and watch for Book #3, Catwalk, fall 2014 - excerpt coming to this blog  September 17. In the meantime, read about the making of the Catwalk book cover HERE.  ~ Sheila                             

Chapter 31

We had planned to sleep in Sunday morning for once, but a bright flash followed by a roar that sounded like a mountain being dragged across the roof landed two dogs on us when there was just enough light to see shapes in the room. One of those shapes was Leo. He was hunkered down on Tom’s dresser.

“Drake, you big weenie,” said Tom, but he wrapped his trembling dog in a securing arm and pulled him in close. He lay his chin on top of Drake’s head and grinned at me. “He doesn’t even flinch when we’re outdoors in a storm. I think it’s an excuse.”

Jay wasn’t bothered by storms, but he knew an opportunity when he saw one. He had squeezed in between Drake and me and rolled against me into belly-rub position. Of course, I obliged.

An hour later the storm had passed and Tom’s backyard radiated summer scents of wet grass, mulch, and a chorus of flowers. I breathed it all in so deeply that I could almost taste the roses, lavender, flowering tobacco, sweet alyssum, and more that fringed the back of Tom’s house. Jay and Drake were getting noses full, too, although they were more interested in following some sort of track across the grass and under the fence.

A flash of red in the air made me jerk my head around. The image of a scarlet parrot flashed through my mind, but was quickly replaced by the male cardinal that had landed on a feeder in the neighbor’s yard.

“Open the door, please, ma’am.” Tom was inside the sliding screen holding a tray with two steaming mugs and two plates bearing whatever he’d been heating in the oven. More inspiring morning scents hit me when I liberated him. Coffee, cinnamon, and yeast.

“You baked cinnamon rolls?”

“Sure,” he said, pulling a kitchen towel out of his pocket to dry the table and chairs. “Was up at four mixing and kneading and working my fingers to the bo....”

“Frozen, right?”

He held my chair out for me and said, “Refrigerated.”

When we had finished eating, Tom took the dishes in and brought more coffee and I cranked up my laptop. We had already emailed my photos of the three parrots – Persephone Swann’s lovely Ava, the dead bird on the island, and the live one – to George Crane, the ornithologist Tom had contacted. We were both eager to see what he had to say, but first I checked my own emails for anything critical, then passed my computer to Tom. As he signed into his account, he said, “It’s too soon to expect anything, you know. His auto reply said he was gone for the weekend.”

Jay and Drake raced onto the deck, a floppy flyer in one mouth and a tennis ball in the other. Dogs and toys were all sopping wet, mucky, and very close. “Not now, guys! Off! Off!” I waved them away, curling my legs up into my chair to keep from getting slimed. They looked so disappointed in me that I almost caved in, but the sound of Tom’s phone saved me from having to do a load of laundry before I could leave.

Tom got up to answer the phone and handed me my laptop. “You could leave more clothes here, you know, in case of wet dog attacks,” he said, touching my shoulder and grinning.

“Stop that,” I said.

“Stop what?”

“Reading my mind.”

He was laughing when he shut the door behind him.

I looked at the dogs. They were still on the deck, Jay lying in sphinx position with the floppy on his paws, Drake sitting, his lip bubbled out where it was caught between tennis ball and tooth. “He does, you know. He reads our minds,” I said. They wagged their tails in agreement.

The door slid open behind me and Tom said, “Janet, come here. Bring your computer.” When I turned I saw that he was gesturing for me to hurry, and seemed very excited. “Hang on,” he told the caller, and pressed the mouthpiece against his shoulder. “Set it up and open my email again. Here.” He re-entered his password and opened his account, then spoke in the phone again. “Okay, downloading now.”

There was an email with photos attached, and he opened the first one. It could have been a portrait of Ava, I thought, although I’d have to see the photos side by side to be sure. The lovely creature was perched on the shoulder of a grinning, bare-chested child with the bowl haircut characteristic of Amazonian Indians. Tom opened the second photo, then the third. Two more parrots, or possibly the same bird. In one shot, the crimson bird was perched on a branch, and the photo was obviously taken at considerable distance from beneath, meaning it was a very tall tree. The third photo showed a parrot in flight, and aside from the forest in the background, it might have been the bird flying around Heron Acres. But one small red parrot in flight looks pretty much like another to me.

“What are we looking at?” asked Tom.

The voice on the other end of the line was speaking fast and sounded agitated. I couldn’t make anything out, but Tom’s forehead had puckered up in his worried-and-potentially-angry look. I’d have to settle for the retelling, I guessed, so I went into Tom’s office and turned on his printer. I’d loaded the printer software onto my computer a week or so earlier when I needed to print something. I found some photo paper on a shelf, so once I slipped it into the feed tray we were all set. I went back to the computer and sent all three photos to print, then opened my own parrot photos and printed them. At least we could compare them side by side.

“No, really, plenty of room,” Tom was saying into the phone. “In fact, you can have the house to yourself if you like.” He winked at me. “Great. See you Tuesday.” He paused, then said, “Right. Nothing until then. Thanks a lot.”

I retrieved the photos and spread them on the counter.

“Wow,” said Tom, frowning and shaking his head.

“He’s coming here?” I was leaning over the pair of Avas. “Do you have a magnifying glass handy?”

“He wants to see the birds for himself, but he’s pretty sure....” He disappeared down the hall and came back with the magnifier.

“Sure of what?”

“Two endangered species,” he said.

I raised my head and gaped at him. “What?”

“That’s what he thinks. This one,” he said, pointing at the photo of the bird that looked like Ava, or whatever his name was now, “is an endangered Amazonian parrot. He’s emailing us the names, but wants us to keep it to ourselves until he gets here. And these,” he pulled the other photos toward himself, “are, he thinks, a critically endangered African species.”

****

Sheila and her BFF Lily (UCDX Diamonds
Perennial Waterlily AKC CD, RN, TD, CGC;
ASCA CD; TDI

Sheila Webster Boneham writes fiction and nonfiction, much of it focused on animals, nature, and travel. Her Animals in Focus mystery series features animal photographer Janet MacPhail, her Australian Shepherd Jay, and her tabby cat Leo. Their lives and adventures are based largely on the author's long experience as a competitor in canine and equine sports, rescuer, shelter volunteer, breeder, therapy volunteer, author of dog & cat books, and life-long animal lover. 

The Money Bird is the second book in the series; #3, Catwalk, will be out this fall. Sheila's Books are available in print, ebook, and Audible formats from your local bookseller and online from amazon.com and other vendors. For personally autographed copies click Here 

Six of Sheila’s non-fiction books have been named best in their categories in the Dog Writers Association of America (DWAA) and the Cat Writers Association (CWA) annual competitions, and two of her other books and a short story have been finalists in the annual competitions. Her book Rescue Matters! How to Find, Foster, and Rehome Companion Animals (Alpine, 2009) has been called a "must read" for anyone involved with animal rescue.

Although best known for her mysteries and her popular nonfiction about dogs and cats, Sheila also writes literary fiction, nonfiction, and  poetry. Her essay "A Question of Corvids" won the 2014 Prime Number Magazine Award for Creative Nonfiction, and her work has appeared in a number of literary magazines. She is currently working on a series of essays about traveling the U.S. by train, a memoir about human-canine and daughter-mother connections, and a new novel. You can learn more about her writing and teaching at www.sheilaboneham.com. Sheila holds a PhD in folklore from Indiana University, and an MFA in creative writing from the Stonecoast Program/University of Southern Maine.

Sheila runs the Writers & Other Animals blog (you are here!), and the companion Facebook Group. Join us!