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Dogs Have Strange Preferences
Last night, Andres and I were talking about the dog, and I mentioned that with all the nice things he has, we've never given him a bone. Andres pointed out that, in addition to the plush bones and the Nylabones and the bone-shaped biscuits, we had in fact tried him on an actual honest-to-god bone shortly after we'd gotten him. Admittedly, an extremely cleaned and bleached and processed sort of bone, filled with some kind of bacon-flavored goo or gel, extremely unlikely to get meat filth all over the carpets, but made of actual bone. The dog never evinced the slightest interest in it.

I sorted out some things in the den closet today. Mostly I went through the pet stuff, sorting out which dog toys can be given to the dog, which need repairs, and which have been demoted to raw material. I also threw out a really remarkable quantity of very expired rat medication. While I was tidying, I had the closet door open. Galen wandered in as I was putting things back, and there -- there on the bottom shelf, which I had forgotten had any dog-related things on it -- he found an Object of Interest. He sniffed, and poked, and Was Deeply Intrigued. So I gave him the object -- have you guessed it yet? -- and he settled down very happily for about an hour chomping away on the aforementioned bone, after ignoring it completely for ten months.


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It needed to marinade? Either that or his grasp of English is better than you realized.

I was going to say it wasn't ripe enough yet

Aging, like a fine wine.

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