Gourmet comics

Thanks for this to Andréa:

She points out it could be both of the animals, or simply the cartoonist, who aren’t aware the dog *is* a “gourmand”, by the standard way that is distinguished from “gourmet”.

P.S. After we already had this post scheduled, the Comic Strip of the Day site included this cartoon, and had an extended discussion of “gourmet”, “gourmand”, and some related words.


  1. In my experience, most dogs simply eat everything that they find on the floor. If the stuff really does turn out to be inedible, they can always throw it up later.

  2. The dogs paws are hidden in every panel except the last. He’s not walking lightly on top; his body is just high enough that he can pick his paws up out of the snow and so leave only single legprints.



    YELLOW URKA-GURKAS — Dog runs around the house and hides under furniture while making a prolonged ‘uuuurka-guuurka, uuurka-guuurka’ noise. (this noise is the only thing guaranteed to wake up a true dog lover who is hung over from a post-dog-show celebration at 3:30 a.m.). After mad scrambling to capture the dog and drag her outside, the episode ends with an indelible ten-yard line of slimy yellow froth from the living-room rug to the back door.

    BLAP DISEASE — Dog exercises hard and a) eats large mouthfuls of snow (Winter Blap Disease), or b) drinks a bucket of water (Summer Blap Disease). Within two minutes of returning inside, the dog spews out large amounts of clear slimy liquid while making a distinctive ‘blap’ sound and sharp percussive noises as it hits the linoleum.

    GARKS — Dog suddenly clears her throat with loud and dramatic ‘gggaark, gggaark,’ noises, generally followed by prolonged ‘iiikssss’ and then loud, satisfied, smacking noises. There is nothing on the rug. DON’T investigate; you DON’T want to know.

    RALFS — Apropos of nothing, the dog strolls into the dining room and waits ’til the innocent dinner guests are all watching her. Then with a single, deep, gut-wrenching ‘raaaalfff’, she disgorges the entire week’s contents of her stomach on the dining room rug.

    VARIATION: then she eats it.

    In all the above events, the dog is entirely healthy and indeed deeply pleased with herself.

  4. @ Andréa – I am perfectly willing to take responsibility for inspiring you to write that hilariously disgusting description of canine puke, but was it really necessary to ASSIGN ME THE BLAME IN ALL CAPS? 😉

  5. When I was teen we had a Lab mix who my brothers gave as one her nicknames “Ralf” for that tendency.

  6. I should mention that this is the dog that didn’t much like kibble, but on some occasions killed and ate rats. At least temporarily. You really don’t want to see that.

  7. I must be slipping; I saw this the other day and never thought to include it. I have the ‘let’s make lotsa noise so Mom wakes up and follows me around with paper towels’ type of dog, who then does nothing.

  8. @BRIAN: Much as I had to admit knowing this, Family Circus has a dog named Barfy. Yuck. I’ve always said do NOT name your dog things like Tripper, Rascal, etc., as they will become/do what you name them.

  9. The dog’s official name was “Black Magic” and was most often called “Magic”. She was called various other things, as would be expected in a family with many children.

  10. Dogs do not do well with spaghetti – or at least my sister’s dog did not.

    I have been afraid of animals – including “oh, he’s so cute, he won’t hurt you” dogs my entire life. (Ruined many another child’s birthday party by running away and screaming about their dog.) So, of course middle sister is an animal lover.

    While in high school I went on a weekend trip with my Hebrew School class and when I returned home my family had been to local dog shelter and my sister had a dog – a smallish poodle whose fur was not cut as such so it was a shaggy dog. At least it was relatively small not a big dog. First night I was home from the trip – “The dog isn’t eating what we bought for it. Go out and buy something different.” – so I went and bought. Several years later big hurricane came along and we had to evacuate. My two sisters went to the house of middle sister’s boyfriend’s family and my parents and I went to my dad’s office – with the dog. Guess who was sent out in the hurricane to walk it?

    Time passed and middle and sister had each married and moved out of the family house – but the dog stayed as sister could not have dogs in her apartment. My parents went on a trip and left baby sister (by then at least in high school, if not college) home with the dog. Mom had cooked meals for baby sister (she is in her mid 50s, but middle sister and I still refer to her as the baby when talking to each other – there are big age difference between all 3 of us) for while parents were away. The day they came back from the trip mom was trying to figure out what to make for dinner and saw that sister had not eaten a meal of spaghetti, some of mom’s meatballs (which Robert would never touch), and (commercial) tomato sauce. So mom heated it up for the dog. Dog died.

    This is something which gets mentioned whenever I say I will cook something which is one of my mom’s recipes.

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