Back to Her Roots

Mister C and I purchased a half a cow from a local rancher at the end of last month.  We're really trying to eat better, healthier food and since removing beef from the menu isn't going to happen, we figured that free range cattle is the next best thing.  No hormones, no antibiotics and no gmo grain in our food has to be an improvement.  We ordered it in March and our beef was ready to be picked up last Friday.  One of the bonuses of getting beef through this particular ranch is that they also have on hand a bunch of beef bones that they will give you if you ask.  Some people use them for soup and such, some people get them for their dogs.  We picked up a few to give to the girls.  Fast forward to this morning.

I was still sleeping when I heard a fight break out in the back yard.  By the time I rolled out and headed towards it, the ruckus was ended.  So I stopped at the coffee pot before heading out to the patio.  When I got there, Mister C was sitting in his chair drinking his coffee, Nora was pacing around with a bone in her mouth and Izzy was in the grass with hers.  Apparently the ruckus was because Nora decided it wasn't good enough to have the bone she had been given, she wanted Izzy's as well.  And that didn't go over real well.  What ended up happening was that Nora got Izzy's bone, which was about half the size of hers, and Izzy got the bigger bone.  So yeah, good planning there Nora.  Further, she didn't really seem to know what to do with the bone she had.  So she paced.

She walked around with the bone in her mouth, looking at Izzy, looking at us, pacing some more.  She wouldn't lay down and chew it, she just paced.  Eventually she disappeared around the side of the house where, we assumed, she was chewing the bone in peace, out of sight of Izzy.  Turns out she was actually burying it in Master J's sandbox.  Yet another good plan Nora.  Mister C dug it up, washed it off and put it back in the fridge.  Evidently Nora is way too domesticated to figure out to eat the meal that's currently available.

But Izzy, oh Izzy, you insane little feral beast.  Izzy gnawed the hell out of that bone.  Now keeping in mind that this bone is actually some kind of large joint from a cow, it was almost as big as her head.  But that did not stop her nor slow her down in the least.  We sat watching in disbelief as that little dog tore that bone up.  It was like watching a wild African dog in action.  National Geographic in our own back yard.  She gnawed.  She chewed.  She ripped off chunks.  She never used her paws, just her jaws.  And she ate the whole damn thing.  In under thirty minutes.  And when I say "she ate it" I mean there was not one scrap left of that bone.  And then she went looking for the one she knew Nora had buried.  Obviously this is a dog that can fend for herself if need be.  One that would survive the zombie apocalypse with us.

I would say she made us proud.  I would, but then I sat there and thought about the fact that my dog just reverted back to her wild ancestors and ate a large cow bone without much trouble.  And I started thinking that maybe I should be extra careful not to become maimed within range of her.  At least not unless I have a weapon close at hand.  My suspicion is that she might conveniently "forget" where the majority of her meals have come from recently.