Sugar vs. The Giant Bone
Yesterday, I happened upon some gigantic dog bones (about two feet long) at the grocery store. I decided on a whim to get one each for Sugar and Chewie, mostly for entertainment purposes.
You see, Chewie has a thing he does with bones. It's like his own little ritual. He always takes the bone, and then jumps up on the couch (or, currently, "his" chair) to chew on it. He really doesn't like chewing on the bone on the floor for some reason.
Now, when you give Chewie a dog bone that's about the same length as he, himself, is, it goes something like this. Chewie futzes about for a few minutes trying to get an appropriate grip on said giant bone. That done, Chewie attempts to jump up on the chair carrying the bone. Bone gets caught on the edge of the chair and pulls out of Chewie's grip. Chewie ends up on the chair, sans bone, and looks around in puzzlement for a few minutes before he realizes the bone is on the floor, and not in the chair with him.
Lather, rinse, repeat several times until Chewie accidentally manages to drop the bone in such a way that it is propped up against the chair so that he can kind of lean his head over the edge and chew on it, or get a grip on it and drag it up onto the chair with him for serious chewing. Meanwhile, Charlie and I are generally rolling with laughter at this point.
Yes, we're big meanie-heads. Get over it.
Anyway, I gave one of these giant bones to Sugar last night. I was even nice, and laid it out in front of her on the couch so she wouldn't have to go through the indignity of trying to get it up there.
Sugar looked at the giant bone.
Walked up and down it, sniffing at it, and occasionally trying to take a bite or a lick. This went on for about 5 minutes, after which, she gave up and just lay down on the couch.
She put her head down on her paws, and occasionally stared at the bone indignantly, but otherwise, steadfastly ignored it.
I figured she didn't want it, so I went to take it away and put it back. As my hand came within six inches of the bone, she growled at me. I grabbed her by the ruff of fur on either side of her head and told her "No," and she licked my hand in apology. I went for the bone again, and again she growled. Lather, rinse, repeat a couple of times, until I took the bone away. She looked so wistful, I gave it back to her, and she lay down again, staring at it.
She doesn't want it, and has no idea what to do with it, but by GOD it is HERS!
God, these dogs make me laugh.
You see, Chewie has a thing he does with bones. It's like his own little ritual. He always takes the bone, and then jumps up on the couch (or, currently, "his" chair) to chew on it. He really doesn't like chewing on the bone on the floor for some reason.
Now, when you give Chewie a dog bone that's about the same length as he, himself, is, it goes something like this. Chewie futzes about for a few minutes trying to get an appropriate grip on said giant bone. That done, Chewie attempts to jump up on the chair carrying the bone. Bone gets caught on the edge of the chair and pulls out of Chewie's grip. Chewie ends up on the chair, sans bone, and looks around in puzzlement for a few minutes before he realizes the bone is on the floor, and not in the chair with him.
Lather, rinse, repeat several times until Chewie accidentally manages to drop the bone in such a way that it is propped up against the chair so that he can kind of lean his head over the edge and chew on it, or get a grip on it and drag it up onto the chair with him for serious chewing. Meanwhile, Charlie and I are generally rolling with laughter at this point.
Yes, we're big meanie-heads. Get over it.
Anyway, I gave one of these giant bones to Sugar last night. I was even nice, and laid it out in front of her on the couch so she wouldn't have to go through the indignity of trying to get it up there.
Sugar looked at the giant bone.
Walked up and down it, sniffing at it, and occasionally trying to take a bite or a lick. This went on for about 5 minutes, after which, she gave up and just lay down on the couch.
She put her head down on her paws, and occasionally stared at the bone indignantly, but otherwise, steadfastly ignored it.
I figured she didn't want it, so I went to take it away and put it back. As my hand came within six inches of the bone, she growled at me. I grabbed her by the ruff of fur on either side of her head and told her "No," and she licked my hand in apology. I went for the bone again, and again she growled. Lather, rinse, repeat a couple of times, until I took the bone away. She looked so wistful, I gave it back to her, and she lay down again, staring at it.
She doesn't want it, and has no idea what to do with it, but by GOD it is HERS!
God, these dogs make me laugh.