Three hungry dogs. One backyard barbecue. Several serious safety violations…
I had two goals for our backyard barbecue: cook dinner and prevent the dogs from stealing it.
Only one of these goals seemed realistic.
I had barely turned on the barbecue when Biscuit appeared wearing sunglasses and carrying a clipboard.
“Good afternoon,” she said. “I’m here for the inspection.”
“What inspection?”
“The Canine Barbecue Safety and Quality Inspection.”
Cricket looked up from beneath the patio table. “That isn’t a real organization.”
“It is now.”
Kevin trotted behind Biscuit, sniffing the ground.
“What’s Kevin doing?” I asked.
“He’s my assistant.”
“I’m in charge of fallen evidence,” Kevin explained.
“You mean food.”
“I mean deliciouth evidenth.”
Biscuit approached the table and examined the dishes. There were chicken-and-vegetable skewers ready for the grill, a bowl of grapes, hamburger buns and a plate of ribs.
She made a note on her clipboard.
“What did you write?” I asked.
“Severe shortage of dog-accessible appetizers.”
“That isn’t a safety violation.”
“It is if you’re a dog.”
Kevin’s nose rose toward the table. “Are gwapeth dog-accesible?”
“No,” I said, moving the bowl farther back. “Grapes and raisins can cause serious kidney damage in dogs.”
Biscuit lowered her sunglasses. “Fruit is dangerous?”
“Some fruit is.”
“This is why I don’t trust healthy food.”
Cricket glanced at the skewers. “Those have onions on them.”
“Also dangerous,” I said. “Onions and garlic can damage a dog’s red blood cells. It doesn’t matter whether they’re raw, cooked or hiding in something else.”
Biscuit looked offended. “Food can hide other food?”
“All the time. Sauces, seasonings, dips—something that looks harmless might contain an ingredient that isn’t safe for dogs.”
Kevin stared suspiciously at a hamburger bun. “What are you hiding?”
“The bun isn’t going to confess,” Cricket said dryly.
As I began cooking, the dogs positioned themselves around the barbecue. Cricket stayed safely in the shade. Kevin monitored the patio stones for evidence. Biscuit stood beside me, offering unwanted professional advice, “That chicken looks ready.”
“It has been on for thirty seconds.”
“I prefer it medium rare.”
“You’re not getting any.”
“Then your cooking time is irrelevant.”
When the ribs were finished, I placed the bones on a plate well beyond their reach.
Biscuit immediately objected. “Excuse me. Those are clearly dog bones.”
“They’re cooked bones, which means you’re not having them.”
“Daddy, dogs have been eating bones for thousands of years. They’re practically our utensils.”
“Cooked bones can become brittle and splinter. The pieces can cause choking, get stuck or injure a dog’s mouth, throat, stomach or intestines.”
Kevin stopped searching the patio. “Can I have one without thplinterth?”
“No.”
“What if I chew vewy carefully?”
“No.”
Biscuit scribbled furiously. “Inspector denied traditional workplace equipment.”
“I’m also throwing away the wooden skewers,” I said. “And nobody goes near the garbage.”
Biscuit peered at one of the empty skewers. “That’s just a stick with ambition.”
“It’s a sharp stick that smells like meat. A dog could swallow it, and it could puncture something inside.”
Kevin backed away from the skewer. “I officially do not want da meat thtick.”
“That,” Cricket said, “may be the first intelligent decision anyone has made today.”
I placed the bones and skewers in a bag, tied it securely and put it inside the lidded garbage bin. Leaving them on a plate or in an open bag would have been an invitation. Dogs don’t understand that something smelling like dinner might require emergency surgery. They understand only that it smells like dinner.
While my back was turned, Biscuit moved toward the patio table.
“Biscuit.”
She froze with one paw raised.
“What are you doing?”
“Conducting a surprise inspection.”
“With your mouth?”
“It’s my most accurate instrument.”
I moved the grapes inside and pushed all the food to the centre of the table. Barbecues are dangerous partly because everyone is distracted. Plates get left on low tables. Children drop food. Guests slip scraps beneath the table because one pleading dog has convinced them she hasn’t eaten since 2019.
So I announced one final rule: nobody was to feed the dogs without asking me first.
Biscuit was appalled. “You’re controlling the entire food supply?”
“Yes.”
“Cricket, this is how dictatorships begin.”
“This is how veterinary emergencies are prevented,” Cricket replied.
Once we had eaten, I prepared three small pieces of plain, boneless, unseasoned chicken and placed them in the dogs’ bowls.
Biscuit inspected hers carefully.
“Safe?” I asked.
She ate it then turned and said, “I’ll need another sample before I can reach a conclusion.”
Kevin swallowed his piece. “I conclude it wath delithiouth.”
Cricket ate hers more slowly. “The barbecue appears to have passed inspection.”
“Not quite,” Biscuit said, studying her clipboard. “There were no bones, no skewers, no grapes, no onions and no access to the garbage.”
“That sounds extremely safe,” I said.
“Exactly. But as a dining experience, it was terribly disappointing.”
She stretched out beneath the table, waiting for something edible to fall from the sky. Nothing did.
And that was how our barbecue ended without an emergency: the dangerous foods stayed out of reach, the bones and skewers went straight into a secure bin, and the Canine Barbecue Safety and Quality Inspector eventually fell asleep on the job.
Her assistant remained on duty.
There could still be ‘fallen evidence’.
Questions from readers, answered by the Pups!
Dear Biscuit,
Whenever we have a barbecue, my dog sits beside me and stares as though he hasn’t eaten in weeks. How can I stop him from begging?
—Grilled with Guilt
Dear Grilled,
First, please stop calling it “begging.” Your dog is conducting a visual food-safety inspection.
The staring is necessary because humans are easily distracted and have been known to eat entire hamburgers without sharing. Your dog is simply making sure this doesn’t happen again.
My professional advice is to give him a small, dog-safe treat in his own bowl and keep dangerous foods, cooked bones and wooden skewers securely out of reach.
Also, avoid eye contact. Once you make eye contact, official negotiations have begun—and the dog always wins.
—Biscuit
If you want to see Biscuit explaining her absolute understanding of baseball (and it’s rules) you definitely want to see THIS video!
Before you go…
Cartoon of the Week!
And now a word from our sponsor: no sponsor this week!
Until next time,
The Dad, the Mom and all the Pups!
The Chronicles Newsletter publishes the First and Third Thursday of every month.
Add your email to get every edition!
