DATE: Thursday, November 20, 1997           TAG: 9711200440

SECTION: LOCAL                   PAGE: B2   EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: Column 

SOURCE: Guy Friddell 

                                            LENGTH:   52 lines

LABRADOR ORDERS A TOMATO SANDWICH - LIGHT ON THE MAYO

Over the summer the chocolate Labrador retriever developed a taste for tomato sandwiches.

He thinks we're in this thing together - ``thing'' meaning, in this case, life - so what he sees me doing over a period of time, he feels obliged to try.

His intent gaze on the sandwich, his ears pricked forward, persuades me to offer him some of it.

Having read recently that a dog's mouth is much less germ-ridden than mankind's, I take a few seconds to cut off the Lab's corner of the sandwich cleanly. No sense in leaving him vulnerable to some human germ.

That attitude ought to please PETA, which beseeches us to treat animals as if we are all one big family.

When we were young and the affectionate family dog kissed us on the mouth, our mothers had us gargle with antiseptic mouthwash.

It didn't occur to anybody to wash out the dog's mouth.

Had we known he was vulnerable, we would have argued for the canine's right to equal protection.

As children, when one of us had a treat, the others could yell ``Vinch!'' to claim a portion of it. Unless, of course, the one with the treat yelled ``No vinch!'' first.

The word vinch is not in the vocabulary of Boomer the Lab, not yet; but his earnest, ever more soulful stare as the sandwich diminishes is more persuasive than any old word voiced by a human being.

And it would be unspeakably mean of me to try to eat the treat out of his sight. I couldn't get away with trying to devour food on the sly, anyway.

At the noise of the refrigerator door opening or the slightest rustling of wrapping paper, he is at the kitchen door, his tail wagging, asking, ``What now?''

His avid attention to the sandwich has revolutionized my approach to preparing it.

My standard way has been simply to splice a slice or two of tomato between two pieces of bread, one of which has been spread with mayonnaise.

Not knowing whether dogs are beset with cholesterol, I've cut back lately on the use of the mayo.

Also out of concern for his well being, I have stopped salting the tomato but have started adding a layer of lettuce - not the ordinary iceberg variety, which has almost no vitamins and little taste, but one of the kinds you find in gourmet cuisine.

So each of us is influencing the other for the better.

Indeed, my learning to load the sandwich with lettuce for his health's sake is much more of a concession on my part than is cutting off a portion to protect him from some infectious germs spread by mankind.

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