Letting Butter Talk

When that big, strange tree with all the lights and shiny things was up in our living room and Julie had just left with her suitcase to go somewhere she called "DC," Conservative Boy brought me a present.

It was a giant present and he was very excited about it. I tried to be nice and show my appreciation. But the truth is, I couldn't quite figure out what it was.

And I'm still not really sure about it, even though Conservative Boy and Julie keep nudging it toward me and trying to get me to play with it.

I'm a little bit worried it's a monster. But it doesn't make a lot of noise like that big monster Julie wheels out of the closet and plugs in and drives over the carpet a couple of times a week. It mostly just lays there. Still, something isn't quite right.

I mean, it looks like a bone. A giant bone. And when I get brave enough to lick it, I have to admit it sure does taste like a rawhide bone. But it's so big that it scares me. I paw at it and when it moves I jump back. It moves, people. That's why I'm sure it's a monster.

And you know what else stinks? Since Conservative Boy brought that present home and we ran out of rawhide chips, I don't get anymore bones or chips. I go and stand patiently at the cupboard where they keep them and wait for them to give me one. But they just tell me to go play with my bone.

What bone?

They can't possibly mean that giant thing on the floor. There's no way.

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