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Bone Appetit

In celebratory anticipation of National Dog Day, which is today, Argo decided to drop his Durabone on my second toe from the big one. The bone is 9.5 inches long and weighs a pound. This in itself does not sound that daunting, but the fact is that I was barefoot and walking on a hardwood floor at the time of the incident. Plus, the said bone fell on the tip of my toe not the base, thus accentuating the pain and anguish which I am considering suing Argo for.

The Bone

The Bone

Bone drama has been epidemic at our house this week.

We are dog-sitting Jack, our son Jeff’s two-year-old English Labrador retriever, while Jeff is filming Naturally7 for World Vision in Cambodia. Jack is a frequent visitor to our house. He lives in East Nashville with three guys and is accustomed to odd hours, sirens, music, and eclectic food scents. Argo dwells in the land of neighborhood children, delivery people, SUVs, and leaf blowers. They are like same-age cousins, however, who love to visit each other’s house and see what’s new in the neighborhood. Both of them are noticeably depressed for a day or two when the other one goes home. They cozy up at night together.

The Camaraderie

The Camaraderie

The last time Jack came over for an extended visit, Phil and I had only a single Sasquatch-sized bone. Argo and Jack periodically tussled over it. So we bought a duplicate bone thinking we had this issue licked. They tussled anyway.

To them, it was not about the bone, it’s about the bone that the other dog currently has. If Jack wants Argo’s bone, he will sidle up to one of us for petting which we do. This makes Argo jealous, so he leaves his bone and comes to us for his share of affection. Jack then 23 skidoos and slides behind Argo laying claim to his bone that he triumphantly waves in the air as he prances around like a canine Puck.

All this pageantry is accompanied by hearty gnawing. Man, this bone is great! So tasty! Yep, I think I’ll just go have a good chew here…

The Envy

The Envy

Perhaps Argo was trying to share his bone with me when he dropped it on my foot. (Why doesn’t he drop the ball at my feet like that after he has fetched it?) He seemed genuinely remorseful when I was pirouetting in pain and finally flopping on the carpet in anguish over the tortured toe. Jack, too, came over for sniffing my face, licking, and stepping back and forth over my prone body. I am glad I wasn’t the one who did that to you. This just proves that I am indeed the good dog.

I may drop the lawsuit against Argo. The defendant looks penitent and I need him anyway as a therapy dog to help assuage my fear of bones – especially the one he is presently chomping on.

 

The Plea For Justice

The Plea For Justice

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