Dog Parables, IV: Gratitude and Attitude

Isn't there anything to eat in this bucket???

Two weeks have passed since I overhauled the way I eat on my doctor's orders. (If you missed that post, see More Good News from Bad.) I've lowered my fat intake and substantially reduced the sugar and overly refined grains I eat. As my doctor suggested, I've cut back on carbohydrates, and those that I do eat come mostly from whole grains and produce. I'm not talking about a low-carb or no-carb diet. I used to eat way too many corn chips, cookies, and pastries, so I cut those out. I still eat whole grain cereals and breads, just not an overabundance. I'm trying to eat at least 25 g. of fiber a day and no more than half my calories from carbohydrates.

Switching to mostly complex carbs seems to have improved my metabolism. This is the first time I have ever gone on a "diet" and not felt deprived or hungry. My cravings for sweets and for my one-a-day beer have subsided. I'm astonished at the way my body has responded. I have more consistent energy and fewer bouts of the low-blood-sugar blues.

Yet, I worry. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Eating has often been a comfort mechanism for me, and I fully expect that at some point, I'm going to rebel against the idea that I can't have two or three servings of corn chips or a couple of chocolate chip cookies or a cranberry muffin. I'll want one of those things just because I've always let myself have them, not because I'm really hungry for them. I read about the Israelites in the wilderness, complaining to Moses, "What! Manna again? Take us back to the fleshpots of Egypt. We miss our cucumbers and melons." And I wonder when I will start complaining.

That's where Smokey is a role model to me. Like all dogs, he is a scavenger. The other day on his walk, he was very proud of himself for finding a Milk Bone biscuit someone had dropped on the sidewalk. But aside from those occasional discoveries, he is on a very strict diet. He is allergic to beef so many dog foods and treats are off limits to him. And he has a tendency to have dangerously high cholesterol and triglycerides. To counteract that, we feed him a high fiber, low fat, dry dog food that we have to buy from the vet. Day after day, it's always the same. When he does get a treat, it's always one of two things: a dry Cheerio or a baby carrot.

He stares at us longingly when we're eating some of the human food that smells so tempting, and sometimes he'll beg even though he knows it's a hopeless cause. Mostly, however, he accepts that he has different food from us. And when it is mealtime, he absolutely quivers with anticipation as he watches us scoop up his cup of dry dog food. He gobbles it down so fast that we have to feed him in installments because he can choke himself from swallowing too much, too quickly.

Compared to the Israelites, who survived 40 years on manna, and Smokey, who eats the same dry food daily, I have a cornucopia of menu options. When the time comes that I feel sorry for myself because of my dietary limits, I hope I can remember my dog's gratitude for his simple dinner and imitate him.