Hard Bones are Dangerous
– June 9, 2017 Toby –
I love a good steak bone. When I was younger, I always got a bone after dinner, especially when Johnnie barbecued. I could devour a slow cooked rib bone in no time. The pork bones at Mama’s place were boiled for hours and fell apart in my mouth.
What I really miss are grilled steak bones. And my real favorite is lamb bone. I’d work those bone for days trying to crack them to get to the marrow. After a few years of chewing on raw bones, both my big back teeth cracked. Ouch.
I had to go to the vet to have them removed. Now, on each side, there are three little teeth that used to line a long slender tooth. The vet told Joanna, “no more bones.” I almost fell off the table. What? No more bones? How can life go on without a bone. When Johnnie found out that lightly cooked steak and lamb bones cracked my teeth, that was it. No more bones from the grill. No more lamb bones or rib bones, or boiled pork bones from Johnnie. Don’t tell Johnnie, but Joanna and Mama still slip me boiled pork bones.
I thought dogs were bred from wolves and foxes who eat raw meat and chew on uncooked bones to get the marrow. Maybe it’s in my genes, all those years of my ancestor’s being pampered in Malta. Who knows? I just wish I had a bone. Oh yeah, off to Mama’s house. Guaranteed a few soft, tasty bones. Don’t tell Johnnie.
