The ears are on special at Aldi’s. Ten pig’s ears for just $15.- They are good for dog’s teeth. Dog’s teeth are the latest target by veterinary interests propping up a booming industry. A doggy smell is most likely caused by your dog’s state of teeth. Have our clinic checked them for you!
Last time we had our dog ‘Milo’ in a boarding hotel his teeth were found in need of de-scaling. That was the beginning of his ‘journey’ of self discovery. An X-ray revealed he needed a tooth pulled as well. Never mind the state of my teeth! Milo sits on the console between us when we are driving and his breath was staggeringly overpowering at times. Mind you, his dietary habits are hardly savoury. He seems to forever find long-lost bones (much prey-loved) he buried in the garden some months back.
After Milo’s teeth were all fixed and paid for, we were advised to give Milo chewy food. The pig’s ears are ideal for that, nurse added, while handing over a chagrined looking Milo. He was clearly miffed about his missing tooth. Anyway, I bought the ten pig ears at Aldi on ‘special’. They were packed in a large yellow bag with a self sealing opening after cutting the top of the bag open. Pig’s ears are large. They were processed to a dried crispy but chewy state and double smoked. Your dog will find them irresistible and it helps to keep their teeth in good order, was writ on the yellow bag. I told Milo the good news.
I could hardly wait to give Milo his first pig’s ear. He sniffed at it, but wasn’t too impressed. I urged him on, ‘go on, this is for you Milo,’ I said pleadingly. He grabbed it and went promptly to the front door. I knew what he was going to do. He took his revenge. He walked towards Helvi’s new crop of the most stunning looking Fox-gloves and started digging a hole with his front legs and stuck the ear in it. He then neatly covered it with the dirt that he had dug up by deftly using his nose like a spade. Now, one would have thought he understood when I lifted the ear out of that hole, that he would have the manner to start chewing it. No, he promptly buried it again.
I told Helvi about this latest. She did not even know I had bought a bag full of pig’s ears. Yuk, she said when I showed her an ear. I held one ear up against the reading light; look, I said you can see the veins and bundled groups of ear muscles. The ears are totally translucent, I enthused further. She said yuk again. How awful, she added, get them out of the house. Where are they? Oh no, not next to the cartons of chicken stock! Out of my cupboard. Pardon; my cupboard? I thought it was ours! What’s wrong with pig’s ears? Get them out! At times like that I dislike her intensely.
I decided not to give Milo his beloved chicken neck in order to get him hungry enough to tackle the pig ear and told Helvi of this dastardly plan, also adding ‘it is for the good of his teeth too.’ How can you be so cruel? Of course he doesn’t eat ears. How awful. You really are a bastard. Poor Milo. Those ears cost me $ 1.50 EACH, I said.
I stood firm and denied Milo his chicken neck. In the afternoon I opened the yellow bag and took out a fresh double smoked ear. Yum I said, looking direct in his eyes. He knew what was coming. I dropped it in his bowl, again murmuring an irresistible ‘yum’. He grabbed it totally resolute, and marched towards the door. He went outside and again went straight for the Fox gloves. He knew he was winning. He was teaching me a lesson. In between the Foxgloves the ear went. This was the third time. I had lost.
I told Helvi.
Get those pig’s ears away from my Foxgloves. Yuk!