The dogs have been swapping a bone in the backyard. We noticed it the other night. Duke refused to come inside when called for dinner. Jerimiah walked into the backyard and saw something laying beneath Duke so he approached and Duke growled. Jerimiah was all, “The fuck, man?” And he low-growled another response, so he let him be.
We eyeballed him out the kitchen window and noticed him gnawing away. They dogs had been digging that morning, up until the point when Jerimiah and Jackson flipped the outside table upside down on the hole to keep them out until we fill it.
“I think they found a bone when they were digging,” Jerimiah said, sipping his tea.
“Uhhh, what?” I inquired, like totally bewildered he’d let him chew on something he dug up.
“It’s just a bone,” he said with a laugh.
“You mean remains,” I corrected.
“Six of one…” he walked off.
Last night the remains made it to the living room rug when Winnie ran in all wild-eyed, and proud of what she’d found. I squealed. Jerimiah laughed. Winnie pranced around in a big display. Duke sulked.
This house has gone mad.
Totally fucking mad.