Here’s my story …

With a name like Chomp you can assume I like to eat. I mean, who doesn’t? And true to my name, I mostly chew vigorously and noisily, so much that it has caused quite the scene when we were around other people.

My lifelong owner, “Mama” was a 90 year old lady, a sweet grand grandmother, who didn’t mind my loud munch habits. Did I tell you she was hard of hearing? It was perfect. I kept her company and guarded her little home and she fed me treats, bones and even pig ears. Ooh, those pig ears are good. And she let me “chomp” down my food without complaint.

That all changed when her children decided to move her to an assisted living community, one that didn’t accept pets (especially ones over 25 pounds). She held out as long as she could and only agreed to go as long as one of her children would adopt me as their pet.

It was sad to say good bye to my sweet “Mama” but I have to admit, I was a little excited to be a part of a new family.

It was the first evening at my new home when they put down, to my delight, a bowl of my favorite hard dog food.

I dove in. I CHOMPED and CHOMPED. I slopped the food all around with heavy saliva, CRUNCHING and tossing.

The family all watched in shock like I was some horrible virus, or a wounded animal, or like those contestants who chose the wrong door and received the booby prize in the Price is Right show.

I stopped chomping for a second.

My new “Mom” said, “Honey, what are we going to do about this?”

My new “Dad” responded, “I have an idea.”

The next evening it was dinner time again and I was excited as heck to chomp again.

Dad emptied some soft canned food into my bowel.

What the wide world of canines was this? It was soft. It was almost liquid. I could have drank this horrible stuff. This was not food. This was punishment.

I refused to eat.

I was so mad, so so terribly angry! I wanted my “Mama” back! This new situation, this new family was not going to work for me.

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Story by ShadyPets.com (c) 2021. All Rights Reserved.