A secret rawhide mountain

It's that time again... time for a puppy story!

But first, some eye candy:


Turns out my pup is a bit of a picky eater. Granted, he'll eat anything I drop on the floor... and only this morning he climbed up on the arm of the couch, reached over and STOLE a fried egg off my plate that was resting on the windowsill (I had hoped) out of reach. But when it comes to treats, he's notoriously picky. Milkbones? Not a chance. I have had the same little box of Milk Bones since he was a puppy over a year ago. These faux-chocolate treats Laura got him last year at Christmas... well he's still not finished them all.

But if there's anything he loves, it's rawhide bones.

Yep, these suckers:


He mows through them... but as I've learned in the past week or so... he only eats part of the bones... and then hides the rest of it for a rainy day. I don't think I've given him a rawhide bone since I got back, but every now and then he'll duck out of sight, and come back munching a linty, half-chewed, often folded-over foul-looking scrap of a rawhide bone.

I don't know, or WANT to know where the hell he's keeping them. I have a sneaking suspicion there's a stash under my (and the spare room) bed.

But at least he's not wasteful... I guess.

Strange animal.