Obligatory Dog Blog

So yesterday I adopted a suggestion of my mother's and went and got the dogs a couple of those huge butcher bones from the grocery store in the hopes of keeping Django so occupied that he wouldn't trash the house or try to escape from the yard. Although I must say that even before the bones, he's been waaaay better lately. Saying that out loud, or, as in this case, in print, makes me feel all itchy and nervous like the gods are watching and about to strike with a loud shout of "Hubris!", a pointed finger and a thunderbolt that makes the dogs eat the couch and then go on some kind of terrible furniture shredding rampage around the neighborhood. But I will say it, and I will also say that the giant bones worked like a charm. They're pretty creepy though - they're all shrinkwrapped but when you unwrap them there is just no escaping the reality that this was until recently inside some large bovine type. I mean they're sinewy and sort of slick and it gives one, even one who is pretty damn far from her long ago vegetarian days, pause.

The only problem with the bones is that they give Django an acute case of bone paranoia. He can't let go of his bone because then, you know, it might disappear or Theo or I might seize it or, or, something. Something bad could happen. So when I got home last night and he was doing his usual ridiculous wiggle all over to show me how overjoyed he was at my return, oh person with the dexterity to open cans, (Django's tail was already cropped by the time we found him, cropped way too short, too, and so when he goes to wag his tail he ends up wagging his entire body instead) he couldn't drop the bone or actually come near me in case I snatched it. It was hilarious; he was so torn about what to do and there was Theo getting petted but he couldn't come near me but. . . you could watch the wheels clunk slowly around in his little pointed head. I mean, you can see his point, because I want his bone so bad - all day I think, gee, wait til I get home when I can take Django's big spitty bone and just lie down on the rug and gnaw on it for a while. Yeah.

I could make a really dirty joke here and so could you but I won't. Anyway, I'm not into interspecies romance.