The All-You-Can-Eat Lawn Buffet
THE CHRONICLES
Dear Chronicle,
Today I went outside expecting a normal patrol of the yard.
Standard procedures: perimeter sniffing and planning strategic nap locations.
Instead, I found Giggle Sprout on all fours eating grass.
Just consuming it like he'd stumbled upon an all-you-can-eat lawn buffet.
I stared.
He kept going anyway.
So I did what any responsible dachshund investigator would do.
I conducted an inquiry.
"Why are you eating grass?"
Giggle Sprout paused mid-chew.
A blade of grass dangled from his sprout-mouth.
He thought deeply about it (which is difficult when you are actively chewing landscaping).
Then he said, very seriously, "I dunno. Why do YOU eat grass?"
"Because I'm a dog."
He shrugged. "So am I."
I was too stunned to dispute this.
It got me thinking:
Grass is not bacon.
Grass is not cheese.
Grass is not even remotely chicken.
And yet dogs across the world continue to walk past perfectly good sticks just to eat the lawn.
As I pondered this, Giggle Sprout offered a theory.
"Maybe we're just checking if it's still grass."
"I think it was grass yesterday," I said.
"You can't be too careful."
Fair point.
I sampled one blade.
It tasted like grass.
I was not surprised. I was, however, disappointed.
Giggle Sprout nodded as though the experiment had been a complete success.
We went inside.
I requested a snack to remove the taste of nature.
I received one.
This confirmed my original hypothesis:
Grass is not food.
It is merely the appetizer you eat on the way to convincing your humans to give you something better.
