What a Bone-Head

Bones.  Dogs love them.  My dogs love them.  My dogs love them so much that it always turns into an interesting social experiment when I give them bones.

My dogs are big, so they get big bones - one half of a femur each.

My arrival home with bones is a cause for great delight for the canine members of the family.  They must be able to smell it in my car, because they are beside themselves by the time I pull up at the house.

Chamois always takes hers to a spot on the lawn and promptly lies down beside it. Not eating it, not sniffing it, just guarding it. Manu has to be given his around the side of the house, otherwise he won't touch it while Chamois is staring at him. He knows that the minute my back it turned, she will come to steal it.

Manu doesn't waste any time - he's eating that bone, well, like a dog on a bone!  Sometimes he lets out a quiet growl if a chicken or wild bird or cat or ethereal object only known to him comes a bit too close.

The chickens are too close

Eventually he'll have to leave the bone to see a dog about a tree, or to come and eat his dinner.  Chamois doesn't let this opportunity go, and quickly rushes in to steal the bone.  Then she will sit and guard two bones.  I can't say I like the look on her face - she really is a bitch. And damn proud of it too.

Eventually when no one is around or able to spy on her, one or both bones will be taken to be buried somewhere in the yard.  We never see her do it, but I watch her come back from some obscure corner with mud and dirt on her nose.  And she looks quite pleased with herself. 

Manu looks around sadly for his lost bone.  Ah well, you win some and you lose some.  If you live with Chamois, you usually lose some.

But patience does pay off, and I saw some sweet karma play out in front of my eyes.  I was coming home from shopping, and I could see that Chamois had dug up a bone (because it was black and smothered in dirt) and was back to her guard duty.  She stood up as I pulled in at the gate, obviously excited to see me (who wouldn't be?).  As she ran up to meet me, I could see that the bone was left unguarded, with Manu standing on the other side of the lawn, watching.  I knew that this was going to be interesting.

"My bone...ha ha, I got it!"

As I made my way down the driveway, I watched Manu sidle over to the bone, nice and casual, nothing to see here folks.  Chamois' ears pricked up, but I think she knew the game was over - for the moment.

Manu quite calmly picked up the bone and walked around to 'his' side of the house to eat it.  He wasn't running, but he wasn't looking at her either, but his tail had this slow steady wag which gave away his quiet pleasure at his cunning plan.  Chamois looked a bit dejected, but accepted the fact that her bone (or was it Manu's) was lost to her for the moment.

Mmmm, rotten bones and dirt, his favourite.

Manu chewed at that bone with great gusto, growling at unseen adversaries, ready to guard it at all costs.  It must have been tasty, because it had definitely had time to ripen while it was buried.  Phoooeeeee, that stunk.  But Manu eats poo, so who am I to judge his culinary tastes? Clearly they are beyond me.

About half an hour later, Manu left his prize to get a drink of water.  Eating a rotten bone must be thirsty work.

Chamois didn't miss a beat - she trotted over and lay down about two feet from the bone.  She didn't want to eat it, she just wanted to possess it.  How else can you lord it over other dogs if you don't have the bone?  She meant business too -  Clawde got snapped at, as did the chickens (Harvey loudly voiced his displeasure) because they dared to go near the vague vicinity of the bone.

She saw her chance, and she took it.

This scenario will play out over the next few days like an infinite loop.  Currently both bones are sitting in the middle of the lawn.  No dog is near them, but each dog knows exactly where the other dog is.  No dog leave their vantage point until the other one does.  I will occasionally hear one loud bark out of Chamois, alerting me to the fact that either a magpie, butcher bird, dog, cat or chicken has even looked at the bone.  And still she won't eat it.

But it's hers, all hers.

"And...it's mine again!"