Dog Psychology 101.
The good news is that I finally found a dog food Bao will eat. It's called Cesar. It comes in little, itty bitty plastic containers covered with colored foil.
The bad news is that it costs $1.19 for three ounces. That's slightly more than the going rate for filet mignon.
Still, he loves it. As soon as he sees the plastic container, he starts salivating. He doesn't get to have it every night, of course. But I must say, it makes my life much easier when we're in Mexico, or travelling, or when I run out of meat and don't feel like making a special trip to the supermarket. Like last night.
I opened Braised Beef with Garden Vegetables in Meaty Juices, spooned it into his dish, and put the dish down in front of him.
To my utter astonishment, he wouldn't touch it.
But you love this! I expostulated.
He gave me a withering look and curled up under the chair.
So do you know what I did? I took his bowl into the kitchen, put the dogfood back into the plastic container, folded the little piece of colored foil back over the top of the container and then brought the whole thing back out and showed it to him. He was out from under the chair like a shot, eyes shining, tail wagging, salivating, begging.
Gobbled it down, right out of the plastic container, in one minute flat.
So here's the thing. Dogs are supposed to "see" with their noses, aren't they? Yet instead of responding to an odor he surely recognizes, Bao hung out until he saw the actual container. What's going on here?
I just don't get it.
Maybe we've visited too many art museums.