The other evening, Grammaw gave Clyde a brand-new rawhide bone before bedtime. Clyde usually gets rawhide treats right before lights-out, after his last time out watering the fence. So, Clyde took his treat and let it lie in the bed beside him for the night.
The next morning, it wasn't even slightly chewed.
Grammaw was worried that, maybe, Clyde's tummy was upset, so she offered to take him outside right away.
Clyde took the rawhide bone with him. He wanted to fetch.
Clyde doesn't fetch. He's about the only retriever I've ever known who just looks at the retriever toys after we toss them afield (well, we usually have to get him into a direct competition with another dog in order to persuade him to chase after a flying ball or whatnot). But when Grammaw tossed that rawhide bone, Clyde played "fetch" for a full fifteen minutes.
After which, he brought the bone in and chewed off the end of it.
A little while later, he plopped himself down in front of Grammaw
in supplication.
Grammaw appeared to be a little slow on the uptake, so he glanced my way.
I translated, he and Grammaw went out, and when they came back in, Clyde collapsed at the exact same spot on the floor, exhausted and contented.
He finished off the chew by bedtime, that night.
Here, I'll throw you a bone, too -- don't forget to swing by
Modulator for
Friday Ark.
