The Healing Powers of
Chicken "Soup" --
for My Dog and Me
By Cal Orey
“And Tom brought him chicken soup until he wanted to kill him. The lore has not died out of the world, and you will still find people who believe that soup will cure any hurt or illness and is no bad thing to have for the funeral either.” -- John Steinbeck, East of Eden
Ever notice pet emergencies happen on holiday weekends? Yesterday Simon, my orange and white six-year-old Brittany and I entered Nightmare City on Sunday afternoon into the late evening. Picture this: At 12:30 P.M. I'm walking my two Brittanys Simon and Seth. Simon, like a food-loving canine, sticks his mouth into an "empty" and weathered stray sour cream container lying on the side of the road. I pulled him away (too late) and we continued our dog walk.
Twenty minutes later, back home my feisty pooch entered the Twilight Zone--thanks to the carton which I discovered did have spoiled food in it. He grew restless. He paced. He panted. He put his paws on the front door demanding to go out (again). He was in mega hyperactive mode. Outside he tried desperately to eat grass, dirt, my plants--anything. Back inside, I led my "possessed" pooch to the bathroom--the place where I watched him get sick on the floor. But it wasn't over.
My agitated canine's unusual behavior lingered. Umpteen calls to the Vet E.R. (50 miles away) later: Advice kept me both agitated and calm. I was getting mixed messages: bring him in asap to hook him up to intravenous equipment like E.T. (the poor misunderstood alien wanting to go home) to simply monitor him throughout the night. He was thirsty. He was hungry. He was thirsty. Hour after hour passed. As recommended, I began to give Simon tiny bits of water. Later in the evening, a small portion of white rice was on the menu. And yes, he wolfed it down. He settled down. And finally, he was down for the night. He slept.
This morning I followed my vet's orders. I boiled a premium chicken breast (all white meat and made sure it was cooked and not pink) and white rice cooked and simmered in premium bottled Mountain Spring Water. (I didn't want to take any chances.) And now, Simon lies beneath me--comfortable and sleeping. Earlier, he was barking, chewing his bone, playing with Seth. We're back on track. My pack and me are on the road to recovery--thanks to white rice and chicken. What's more, when my best friends are sick--I feel their pain, truly. I couldn't eat yesterday. This time around apple cider vinegar and olive oil weren't my home cures of choice--for the dog or me. Seth (he's sensitive, too), Simon, and I will eat chicken and rice (I'll toss in some cruciferous veggies for me) as we all enjoy the grr-eat healing powers of bland food and TLC--it's the "chicken soup" for dogs and their devoted humans.