I used to roll my eyes at small dog owners.
Not anymore. I was one. I had a 12-pound rescue who ate like he was training for the Iditarod.
Here's what I see all the time at the clinic — back when I managed a vet practice in Portland before doing nutrition full-time. A client comes in with a tiny dog. Maybe a poodle, maybe a chihuahua mix. The dog is shaped like a sausage. The client says, "He barely eats."
Then we do a diet history. And it turns out "barely eats" means: half a cup of kibble in the morning, a dental chew mid-day, a piece of chicken at dinner, eight training treats on their walk, a piece of toast crust from breakfast, and whatever the toddler dropped on the floor.
That dog is eating the calorie equivalent of a 70-pound Labrador. I'm not exaggerating.
A 12-pound dog needs about 250–300 calories per day. A single dental chew can be 80–100 calories. That's one-third of their daily budget. A piece of chicken the size of your thumb? Another 50. Those little training treats? Three calories each sounds small until you've given ten of them.
I worked with a client last year — her name was Sarah, she lived in the Gabriel Park neighborhood. She had a 15-pound terrier mix named Ziggy. Ziggy's BCS was a 7. She was convinced he had a thyroid problem. Tests came back normal.
We cut his treats from 8-10 per day to 3. Switched to green beans as filler. Reduced his kibble by 15 percent. That's it. No magic food. No expensive prescription diet.
Ziggy lost two pounds in three months. That's like a 150-pound human losing 20 pounds. Sarah cried at the recheck. She said, "I didn't realize I was killing him with kindness."
Small dogs are the most overweight dogs in America. Not because their owners are careless. Because their owners are generous. Because "just a little treat" is 10 percent of a small dog's daily calories. Because "he barely eats" ignores the 47 unmeasured calories he picks up throughout the day. Because small dogs are adorable, and adorable dogs get more treats.
I had another client named Mike. He had a 10-pound Pomeranian named Fluffy. Fluffy was 14 pounds. Mike fed him "a handful of kibble" twice a day. I asked Mike to measure the handful. It was 1.2 cups. Total. For a 10-pound dog. Mike was feeding Fluffy like he was a 40-pound dog. And he had no idea. Because "a handful" isn't a measurement. It's a guess. And guesses are always wrong.
We put Fluffy on a measured diet. 1/3 cup of kibble per day. Measured with a scale, not a scoop. No treats. No table scraps. No "just a little bit." Fluffy lost 3 pounds in 4 months. Mike called me last week. "Fluffy can run now," he said. "He hasn't run in two years."
So if you have a small dog, measure everything. Every treat. Every scrap. Every "just a little bit." Because for a small dog, a little bit is a lot. And a lot is dangerous. And dangerous is heartbreaking. So measure. Weigh. Count. And love your small dog enough to say no. Even when they look at you with those eyes. Especially when they look at you with those eyes.
—Megan (currently on my third cup of coffee because writing this made me tired)
Let me tell you about the most heartbreaking case I've ever seen. A woman named Patricia had a 6-pound Chihuahua named Peanut. Peanut was 9 pounds. That's 50 percent overweight. For a Chihuahua, that's like a human being 100 pounds overweight. Peanut couldn't walk without wheezing. He couldn't jump. He couldn't play. He just sat in Patricia's lap and ate treats.
Patricia fed Peanut "just a few treats" per day. I asked her to count. She did. It was 47. Forty-seven treats. Per day. Each treat was 3 calories. That's 141 calories. For a 6-pound dog that needs 120 calories per day. Patricia was feeding Peanut 117 percent more calories than he needed. In treats alone. Not kibble. Not scraps. Just treats. "Just a few."
Patricia cried when she saw the numbers. "I didn't realize," she said. "I thought I was being loving." She was being loving. She was being kind. She was being generous. And she was killing Peanut with kindness. One treat at a time. One "just a little bit" at a time. One "he looks so cute" at a time.
We put Peanut on a strict diet. Measured kibble. No treats. No scraps. No "just a little bit." Patricia was devastated. She felt like she was starving him. She felt like she was being cruel. She felt like a bad owner. I told her she was being a good owner. That love isn't food. That kindness isn't treats. That generosity isn't calories. That the best thing she could do for Peanut was to help him live. And living means being healthy. And healthy means being at the right weight.
Peanut lost 2 pounds in 4 months. That's 22 percent of his body weight. For a human, that's like losing 40 pounds in 4 months. Peanut started walking. He started playing. He started jumping. He started living. Patricia called me last month. "Peanut chased a squirrel yesterday," she said. "He's never chased a squirrel. He's never been able to." She was crying. Happy tears. Because Peanut was alive. Really alive. For the first time in years.
So if you have a small dog, measure everything. Every treat. Every scrap. Every "just a little bit." Because for a small dog, a little bit is a lot. And a lot is dangerous. And dangerous is deadly. So measure. Weigh. Count. And love your small dog enough to say no. Even when they look at you with those eyes. Especially when they look at you with those eyes. Because love isn't food. Love is health. And health is life. And life is everything.
—Megan (currently on my third cup of coffee because writing this made me tired)
Let me tell you about the most dangerous phrase in dog ownership. "He's just a little dog." I've heard it a thousand times. "He's just a little dog. He doesn't need much exercise." "He's just a little dog. He doesn't eat much." "He's just a little dog. A few treats won't hurt him."
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Small dogs need just as much exercise as big dogs. They need just as much discipline. They need just as much attention to their diet. And they need even more attention to their treats. Because a "few treats" for a small dog is not a few treats. It's a lot of treats. It's a meal. It's a day's worth of calories. In "just a few."
I had a client named Jennifer. She had a 15-pound terrier mix named Ziggy. Ziggy was 5 pounds overweight. Jennifer fed him "just a few treats" per day. I asked her to count. She did. It was 23. Twenty-three treats. Per day. Each treat was 4 calories. That's 92 calories. For a 15-pound dog that needs 350 calories per day. That's 26 percent of his daily budget. In treats. That Jennifer thought were "just a few."
We put Ziggy on a treat budget. 5 treats per day. That's it. 20 calories. Measured. Counted. Budgeted. And we switched to vegetables. Carrots. Green beans. Cucumber slices. Ziggy could have a whole cup of green beans for 30 calories. It filled him up. It satisfied his chewing instinct. And it didn't make him fat. Ziggy lost 3 pounds in 4 months. Jennifer called me last week. "Ziggy can run now," she said. "He's never been able to run. He's always been too heavy."
So if you have a small dog, stop saying "he's just a little dog." Start saying "he's a dog." A dog who needs exercise. A dog who needs discipline. A dog who needs a measured diet. A dog who needs your attention. And your love. And your commitment. Not your excuses. Not your "just a little bits." Not your "he's so cute." Your attention. Your discipline. Your love. Because small dogs are dogs. And dogs deserve to be healthy. No matter their size.
—Megan (currently on my third cup of coffee because writing this made me tired)
