The Power of Chicken Treats

(Sunny trying to break into the pantry where we store the big chicken treat bag.)

As much as we might like to believe that the love our dogs have for us is pure and sacred and unconditional, in our hearts we know the truth…It’s all about the food.

Sunny is a big foodie.

His tastes are particular, if not eccentric. Although we buy him only the best, organic, all-natural dog food, most days he prefers to leave the cold, dry kibbles languishing in his bowl in the hopes that something better will come along either by way of guilt-inducing begging or a careless drop of something yummy on the floor. (There’s no five-second rule in our house. If you drop it, it’s scarfed down before you have the opportunity to consider whether or not it is still edible.)

When we got Dog it was recommended that we feed him an egg yolk a day to help prevent eye problems common in his breed. So I dutifully micro-waved him an egg yolk every morning when he was a puppy. At first he gobbled them up, along with the dry food, because I dribbled the runny yellow all over it.

Soon he tired of plain egg yolk and I had to resort to mixing a little cheese into his breakfast. Omelet de la kibble. This is working since he has yet to tire of cheese—a trait that he and I enthusiastically share.

But his real weakness is chicken treats. I originally bought these because I thought they would be a “healthy” alternative to other kinds of treats with chemicals, additives, high-fructose corn syrup (oh, sorry, that’s the kids’ snacks I’m thinking about..). These are basically dried chicken breasts. How healthy is that? High protein, low fat…

But too much of a good thing can turn into a bad thing.

Soon, he was addicted. He would do anything for a chicken treat. His life was out of control and unmanageable. He needed to surrender his will to a higher power, but what power would that be? Rawhides? Beef bones?

I must confess, it's all my fault. I’m an enabler.

When Sunny was a puppy, we potty trained him by giving him a chicken treat whenever he went out to pee vs. peeing inside. But it wasn’t too long until we noticed that he spent a good part of the day scratching at the door, going outside, taking a teeny tinkle on a bush, then running enthusiastically inside to jump on the drawer where we keep the treats.

After a while, we got wise to this ruse and started giving him treats only for poops.

But Dog was smarter than us. We would let him out and he would run to the other side of the yard, loiter behind a bush for a while, and then come bounding in, heading straight for the treat drawer, with a look on his face that said, “Yeah, I pooped. Didn’t you see me? Oh, sorry, I guess the foliage was blocking your view. You should have been out there with me to witness that magnificent poop. But, hey, you can trust me. Now, come on, give up the treat!”

It wasn’t until our good friend, and total dog person, Ann kept him while we went on vacation and reported back to us that we realized the error of our ways.

“You’re giving him too many treats!” she scolded. “He’s getting fat!”

Shamed, and with only the good of the Dog in mind, I had to go with the tough love approach.

Now the chicken treats are doled out like methadone pills, only enough to stabilize him.

Otherwise he gets baby carrots for treats.

If he gets addicted to those, Dog help us, but at least they’re good for his eyes.