It Does Not, Taste Like Chicken!

Chandler lives a good life. Every morning he gets to spend some time up on the bed with me, a time he thoroughly enjoys. In the early evening, around five o'clock, we go out for our walkies and he gets to meet his dog friends, also out for their walk. He lives in a nice air-conditioned home, with full access to the sofa and daddy's big chair. Twice a day his big bowl is filled with quality dog food, and three times a day he gets to lap up mounds of food that Mark can't finish. So why, oh why, did he have to eat a rat carcass this morning?

Chandler often comes to me and asks to go out, on the pretext that he has to go poopies. Sometimes that is true, but many times he just wants to go out and dig holes or chase lizards. This morning, I thought he might not have to poop because I had seen him drop a load just an hour before. Even so, I had also seen him eat Mark's left over breakfast, including eggs, sausage, and toast, plus his regular bowl of Purina Dog Chow, and I figured just in case I'll let him out. When I checked on him five minutes later he was at the end of the dog run eating something. Now when you tell a dog to drop something that they are eating, in dog language they are hearing you say "eat faster, and swallow". As I got closer to Chandler I could see that what was in his mouth were the well chewed remains of a dead rat, and by the time I got to him all that was still visible was the tail, stripped of meat dangling from his lips.

For five minutes I wrestled with him, trying every trick I had seen on 'The Dog Whisperer'. I pried and pulled at his jaws, I tried to press his lips against his teeth, I even tried pulling on the rat tail only to have the rest of the rat fur peel off in my fingers. The whole time the smell of rotting rat kept wafting up my nose. How could he possibly find this thing to be so delectable? Finally, after fighting off the dry heaves, and jamming my finger up into his jaw, Chandler gave a big gulp, and opened up his mouth. I reached in, and felt all around, nothing, empty, the rat was gone.

I brought Chandler back into the house, and while I was thoroughly washing my hands, from in the bedroom, I could hear Mark cooing, "Come here little baby, and give daddy some kisses.". For just a second I debated whether or not to tell him.