Courtesy of Diane Lazzari
Lucca the Belgian Tervuren's goal weight was 85 pounds, which meant she had to shed 15 pounds.
The running joke shared between Diane Lazzari and her husband, Dennis Green, was that their dog, an 8-year-old Belgian Tervuren, had a fully stocked refrigerator hidden in their Alameda backyard. Because regardless of what they fed her, Lucca kept gaining weight.
When our veterinarian shared her concern about Lucca's weight, which hovered between 98 and 101 pounds, I reassured her that we walked a vigorous 20 miles a week. A few extra pounds shouldn't be that big a deal, should it?
Then I read an article in The Chronicle that spelled out the "secret" formula for losing weight, human or canine: Eat less, exercise more and voila! A no-brainer, sure, but that article helped me realize that Lucca's extra weight really was a problem. Even a few additional pounds could lead to long-term health risks, such as hip dyspepsia and heart problems.
Dennis and I agreed that a serious diet was in order for our pudgy Belgian. A meeting with our vet established that Lucca's goal weight was 85 pounds with no more than 970 calories per day.
Lucca's first meal on her new regime was a real eye-opener. It was immediately evident that I had been overfeeding her, and by a lot. I used to fill her large metal bowl to the very top. Now, her 1 cup of measured food sat sadly at the bottom of her bowl, filling it only to about one quarter of what I had been giving her.
Lucca didn't have a refrigerator in the backyard. I was her refrigerator! Plus, Dennis and I were guilty of another no-no: sharing our people food with Lucca. We realized we had to cut back. My half scrambled egg in the morning became a teaspoon. For Dennis, leaving generous leftovers in his bowl changed to letting Lucca lick an empty bowl clean.
With monthly weigh-ins at the vet, we slowly started seeing progress. Two pounds one month, a pound another, sometimes none, but at least the numbers were moving down.
Unfortunately, these pound-saving techniques were not appreciated. I never realized how piercing the eyes of a Belgian could be while I was eating a hamburger. Or the effectiveness of a cold nose poking my face at 3 a.m. Initially, I thought the "cold nose poke" was Lucca's way of telling me she needed to go out. But I soon recognized ulterior motives were at stake when she continued walking past me, past the open door, and into the kitchen. Standing next to her empty bowl, she would look at it, and then back at me with an accusing stare. The message was all too clear and hard to ignore.
See the article here:
Diet a heart-tugger for Belgian Tervuren's owners
