Yesterday i pulled the biggest bone from the bag and went to the door. The door tends to jam so there I was, excited hound, bone and stuck door. That was when I made my first fateful mistake. My last dog, Taffy would have stood at the door with the bone until he could get out but i forgot it was not Taffy. I handed Harry the bone to free my hand to jiggle the door. Harry (not Taffy) grabbed the bone (can i remind you that it was the biggest in the bag) and ran to his bed. His indoor bed.
Harry is a different dog to the one who first came here two years ago but he still has huge teeth and he still likes his bones to be his.
I dared not try to take it and he wouldn't be distracted.
His bed became a murder scene. In the loungeroom. Then a fly magnet. In the loungeroom.
The bone took a lot of chewing and he was still gnawing away when I left for work so I didn't give him his kibble breakfast.
When it was dinner time I remembered the missed breakfast and gave him extra kibble. He ate most of it and left a little, they regulate their eating better than a lot of people do....don't they?
Soon it was bedtime and he was allowed out for his (hopefully) last pee and a sniff around. He decided to finish the kibble.
At 2am I woke to the sound which can drag anybody out of bed in a microsecond: gagging dog. By the time my feet hit the floor I was looking at dog-eating-his-own-vomit. He looked at me with mild interest as he considered which tasty morsel to eat next.
Of course, a fast waking precipitates a previously non existent need to pee so I had to ignore the whole vomit situation for a moment and the delay allowed me to see that Harry had every intention of cleaning up his own mess.
So there I was, at 2am, playing word games and waiting for an errant hound to eat, drink and pee.
At 5am I was woken again, this time to a pony sized dog turning frantic circles on my bed. I hustled him out the door to do whatever he was going to do and blearily allowed him back in.
After all the night time activity I had a wee sleep in and then was having a leisurely coffee when Harry bolted to his freshly washed bed, flopping dramatically down and panting. I smiled dotingly for a very brief moment. Bone and bile spewed all over the freshly washed floor.
Harry is fine now, sleeping the sleep of the righteous (or exhausted) but I'm not sure if I want to enrich him, ever again!