Apr 19, 2024 4 min read

That strange morning a few weeks ago, Smoothie looked at his bowl of food, sniffed it a bit, turned and looked at me with some disappointment, and walked away.

It had been at least 10 years since he last refused a meal, and that time my pup ended up in the hospital overnight – an expensive and upsetting few days that resulted in a diagnosis and special food. Since then, he has eaten nothing but brown rice and chicken breast, a diet that requires cooking big pots of the food every week. There are some weeks he eats better than I; on a recent visit, my son-in-law smelled the pot of Smoothie food cooking on the stove and lifted the lid.

“This looks good,” he said, thinking it was his own dinner.

Healthy as it was – not to mention delicious – Smoothie didn’t want the food. Concerned that he was sick again, I kept an eye on things. He was still eager to go for our walks and, as always, objected noisily when I made coffee. The daily coffee freak-out has been our canary in the coal mine. The day I touch the coffee maker and he doesn’t carry on, I’ll know something’s wrong.

Smoothie is 13, closing in on the expected lifespan for a sheltie. Although he sleeps more than he used to and is a bit hard of hearing and somewhat grumpy, he still has some pep. Most weekends, I take him along on my 3-mile walks around a lake, exercise that is more aerobic for him than it is for me. We amble along, with him taking four steps for my one. Every mile or so, he’ll find a shady spot and lie down.

Last weekend, he was being stubborn when it was time to keep going. The look on his face said, “Carry me.” He’s small for the breed, but he’s heavier than he looks, and all that soft fur somehow makes him slippery to hold. No way was I going to carry him the mile back to the car. I gave his leash a gentle tug, and he looked up at me, sighed and joined me for the rest of the walk.

Maybe it happens to all dogs on walks, but Smoothie gets a lot of compliments. Often people will comment as they pass us, mentioning his cute face or his fluffy coat. Sometimes they will ask if he’s a collie puppy (no) or if they can pet him (yes). I always say yes, even though they think he’s a she. I guess Smoothie looks feminine.

After those compliments and fawning interactions, he preens a bit as we walk away. We all like to feel pretty sometimes.

His rejection of the food lasted for a day and a half. When I put down the dinner bowl to try again, he looked at me and then dug in. I was so relieved that I scrambled him an egg and tossed it in there. He gobbled it all.

I don’t know why he rejected his food that day. Maybe his stomach was upset, or maybe he was on a hunger strike, albeit a short one. He’s back to normal now, whatever normal is for an aging dog with a digestive condition. This week, as I always do, I poured the brown rice into the pot and added the frozen chicken breasts, added water and set it to cooking. My house filled with the aroma of chicken soup.

Alas, it was not my lunch. It was breakfast for Smoothie, perhaps the world’s best-fed dog. And one of its prettiest.