a bone to pick

At the non-insignificant risk of sounding like your friendly neighborhood crazy dog lady, I sometimes forget that Jack is, well, a dog. And I have concurrence on this: two former roommates actually admitted to thinking, for just a split second, something like "well, if you can't pick me up from the airport, Jack can."

Seriously. This dog has been known to hold a grudge for days where he refuses to make eye contact with whomever embarrassed or offended him. That's not normal canine behavior. I can attempt to drown bathe Coco and still find her clamoring to sit on my lap 10 minutes later.

Anyway. Because he does so many human-like things - operating a toaster oven, faking a back injury, unlocking child-proofed cabinets - I am amused when he does typical dog stuff.

Like burying a bone.

I have never known him to bury anything. I have a suspicion there is a nest of my unmentionables somewhere in the house - to be waved around when a male walks through the door - but haven't found it. (Fun fact: approximately 71% of the city's plumbers, electricians, and contractors know my bra size.)

There he goes! It was dark and I was confused for a good few minutes as to what he was doing.

Wonderful use of that big block head.
Good job patting down the dirt, too.

Unfortunately, for all his hard work...

I dug that bone right back up when he was inside. Not leaving food items so close to the house when furry whiskered creatures with tails (don't make me say the word) are waking from hibernation.

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Usefulness of the day: Use plain yogurt where you would use mayo or sour cream. Tuna salad is wonderful if you substitute a blend of yogurt and a little mayo for mayo!