This is Buddy. I just threw him a two-day-old Grands! biscuit, after first tearing it into three pieces. Most fair-sized dogs would usually swallow each piece down pretty quick, right? Well, Buddy picked up the first piece, the second, the third, and then he looked up at me with a mouth full of biscuit (no chewing yet!) and seemed to be thinking:
All right, what else you got? 'Cause I can fit more in here. You saw me carrying that huge bone I drug up from the back pasture, didn't you? You know that was no normal-sized bone, right? I saw you lift it that one time. It was two-cats-long, at least. And it weighed probably eight and 1/2 cats. It was like -- I mean, what was that? I sure as heck don't have any bones that big. Bones... Can't imagine I'd be able to do that cute little hoppy thing I do with a Brontosaurus femur inside me. I'd probably have arthritis all the time and be real sad. By the way, what's arthritis? Is that even a thing? Did I just invent language? Oh, and could you get me some more biscuits? -- 'cause these are all wet now.