Sharing

There are some things that I just shouldn't be expected to share!

All last week I had a guest, Spencer. (I was dog-sitting)

Now Spencer is a perfectly lovely dog, a bit spirited at times, but as well behaved as can be expected of a teenager. I didn't mind sharing my home, my bedroom, my food, my studio, my walks, or even my humans (though I wasn't terribly happy about the latter).

I do however, draw the line at sharing my Marsha Bone. My Aunt Marsha gave me that bone for Christmas. I have been saving it, savoring it with not so much as a toothmark on it. Every morning I use it to play chase with the humans. There is no way I am going to let Spencer lay a paw on it.

At first I tried carrying it around but it was difficult, not to mention rude, to talk with a bone in my mouth.

I tried chewing it. That only worked for a little bit. It turns out that when you chew a Marsha Bone it gets soft and I chewed the end off. Then I had two pieces to worry about. Darn!

I had the artist hide the biggest end on the cabinet under the stairs and I hid the little end in a pile of boxes, then went to defend the big end. I stood on the stairs and did my best impression of a police-dog.

Finally the artist took both pieces and put them so high that not even I could smell them and I no longer had to worry about Spencer getting them. Whew!

Sharing is over-rated. (unless I had the opportunity to share fleas)

Love,
Buddy