There are various theories out there as to why exactly dogs eat grass. Some say that when a dog's stomach is upset, they will eat grass to ease the discomfort. Now, I like to think that my two pups are geniuses just like the rest of the dog owners out there, but I really don't get the feeling that they think to themselves, "Hmm, I'm feeling a bit off tonight, perhaps I shall go seek out a natural stomach calming remedy!" So they eat grass and vomit it back up, usually on the carpet. There are other vets that say that dogs eat grass simply because it tastes good. An hour later, however, it becomes an irritant and up it comes, oftentimes accompanied by chunks of the $45 high-quality dog food you chose to feed your pet instead of the cheap grocery-store kind.
In the springtime, there is no shortage of the tall leafy green stuff along the banks of the creek that runs beside our home. Many folks walk their dogs along the pathway around the creek, and many dogs will stop and nibble a blade or two for an on-the-go snack. In contrast, my two run through along the bank, mouths open, looking like two contestants on "Minute to Win It" by cramming as much grass into their mouth as they can before I yank the leash and pull them back to the path. They come back with grass blades hanging from their chins, smiling like a pair of happy cows.
At first I was rather alarmed at the rate they were playing weed-eater, and even looked online to see if there was some sort of reasoning for this. The grass along the creek bank is not treated with pesticides or herbicides so at least they are not getting poisoned by this peculiar habit. And Lord knows it's funny to watch. But to see them make a bee-line for the meadow and snarf like a starving person at the all-you-can-eat salad bar, I always have to keep in mind that in the middle of the night I am bound to hear the familiar "hork-hork-hork" of Bodie performing his personal composting. I'm pretty sure this is not what Al Gore had in mind when he told us all to "go green."
As summer approaches, these same sweet acres of green goodness turn to brown, crisp fire-hazard weeds full of foxtails, ticks, and other dog-unfriendly varmints. Our latest walk had Leila bounding happily towards the amber waves, only to have me yank her back and make her heel on the path, much to her confusion. That's okay, Leila, I have a whole yard at home with tufts of un-mowed grass sprouting up with your name on them.
Just please don't feel the need to give it back three hours later.
