I had a few exciting developments occur this week.
I am a dog who loves a bone. When I arrived here, three fresh bones were waiting for me, two made of kangaroo and one ostrich; I felt terrible for gnawing on their remains. Knowing their fate must be why they hide in pouches and bury their heads in the sand.
My parents assumed that I have a tender bite since I am short of stature and slight of head. When my parents play the hand game with me, they slap their mitts on a surface, like the bed, and I try to catch their hands with my mouth. They encourage me not to bite, but I inevitably catch a finger. Because I never break the skin, it is assumed my jaw isn't powerful. They never consider that I am smart enough not to bite the hand that feeds me.
One night this week, I was chewing on an ostrich bone in the big bed. My Dad noticed I was chewing something, and he reached into my mouth and pulled out part of the bone the size of four half dollars stacked upon one another. Daddy said, "I couldn't believe that fit in her mouth.
"That's what she said," I responded, but it did not garner a reply.
At that moment, a decision was made for me without my input which was quite upsetting—no more natural bones with pieces that can break up. If you notice an uptick in the ostrich or kangaroo population, you can thank me.
Luckily I loved wooden bones too. When I moved here, I was lucky to inherit my sisters' toys. My favorite is a Tweety Bird head I can throw in the air and chase. I also love a ratty toy with a fuzzy tail I got on my first vet trip. I love it, but I am worried about hair loss. When I chew it, the hair comes off in my teeth. Poor thing is suffering from rat pattern baldness.
The wooden bones were big, and I could barely hold them, so my parents ordered two smaller ones I took to immediately. After my natural bones were tossed away, I received a pack of three new wooden bones, more significant than the small ones, but I could still hold them. They are in different shapes to keep me from getting bored, and I play with them equally. I don't bogart bones.
So, I think I have my parents trained in giving treats, feeding me, letting me sleep in the big bid, and keeping me well-stocked in bones and toys. Next is leaving me home alone; my sisters never trained them.
But my parents ain't seen nothing like me.
Keep up the good work Ruby Rose.ReplyDelete
You are one of a kind, Ruby.ReplyDelete
You really are doing a good job with their training sweet Ruby Rose. Don't get any splinters from those wooden bones!ReplyDelete
Eastside cats are right! ONE of a kind darling girl!ReplyDelete
Sounds like you are training em well!ReplyDelete
Ruby, I admit I was a bit upset to read that your had had your natural bones withdrawn, but Gail tells me it is for a good reason and I'm pleased anyway that your parents have found you an acceptable substitute. Keep up with the training - I am discovering that humans always have something new to learn.ReplyDelete
I've never had these fresh fancy bones before or wooden bones. All I ever get is stuffed bones.ReplyDelete
BOL BOL BOL They encourage me not to bite, but I inevitably catch a finger.
We think it is amazing that you had so many bones to choose from! You are one lucky pup Ruby Rose!ReplyDelete
Rosie and Redford
You're so precious, Ruby. Tell your mom to link this post of Awww Mondays, because you're most Awww worthy.ReplyDelete
Have a woof woof day and week. My best to your mom. ♥
Hi friend, that is quite a bone story! I am happy to hear that the wooden bones are an acceptable replacement!ReplyDelete
Thank you for joining the Awww Mondays Blog Hop.ReplyDelete
Have a fabulous day and week. ♥