Well, I don't know what we did so special to deserve raw beef bones, but I'd do it every day if I could. Mom brought us big joint knuckles with lots of gristle and some meat. Gretchen doesn't get one, because she doesn't like fresh. If it's not ready to roll on and hatch maggots, she doesn't want any. She burried one bone in her crate and left it until Mom started to complain....yelp, mom was steaming over that trick.
Maybe she's still mad and that's why Gretchen doesn't get a bone now. She'll sneak and chew my bone in a few days, when I'm in the house. That'll be about when Sal buries her bone....and forgets where she put it. But ol' Sal generally uses one of my holes for her bury spot, so I find them later and she gets all huffy about it. Sorry, gal. You should hide your stuff better.
Yez, Yukon-o-sluth
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