Boner


I have two girl dogs, Flipper and Simba.

Flipper is an old girl, probably 11-12 years or so. She was fully grown when we saved her from certain death at the dog pound, so her age is approximate. She moves like an old lady; slowly and with complaints. She’s loyal and protective, and loves nothing better than a long walk with a treat at the end.

Simba is five. We got her from the pound as a puppy. She was all the things a puppy should be: small, adorable, wiggly and full of energy. Her companionship has kept Flipper young, or at the very least, has given her a friend to keep life interesting. Simba loves to play ball with a passion that overrides all other needs and desires. She will fetch and return the ball until she drops from exhaustion.

Simba’s least redeeming quality is that she loves to eat poop. Fresh-from-the-factory steamers are her favorite, although she won’t turn her nose up at something that is a day old, if the weather is warm enough to keep it fresh. She’s sweet and friendly – just don’t let her lick your face.

One thing they agree on is bones. They love their bones. Big, disgusting dead cow knuckle bones are their favorites. Bringing home a couple of fresh bones is just like doggie Christmas. They’ll chew on those suckers until there’s nothing left but a couple of shards.

The girls seem to have a real affection for this latest bone. I wonder what makes it so special? Hmmm…

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