akeg, Flickr
Each morning, our dogs accompany us on our walk to the horse barn. My wife and I have shared our lives with many animals over our long and happy marriage, and our walk always makes me think of the dogs no longer with us, like our much-missed black Labrador, Sirloin.
While we would carry our cups of coffee, Sirloin usually carried a toy, a piece of a tree or something dead in his mouth. Once we got up to the barn, Sirloin would be ready to top off his tummy tank with some canine haute cuisine, diving head first into a fresh pile of horse dung. After cleansing his palate, he would then flop on his back, rolling fervently, as if he had a really bad itch and the horse apples were a bed of nails. Yes, we loved this dog.
SEE ALSO: Why Does My Dog... Eat Poop?
The menu at our Cafe McMutts then, as now, featured dead mice, dead birds, assorted dung and the skeletal remains of various forest animals. These dietary indiscretions might freak out some people, but I've lived on a ranch my whole life, as has Teresa, and we think of them as kind of cute. Or we did, until the day Sirloin went too far in his journey to smell hell.














