Gut Rumbles
 

October 12, 2009

Rib bones

Originally published June 27, 2004

I cooked a rack of very delicious pork ribs yesterday and finished off the leftovers today. I saved all the bones. I wanted to take them to Katie, the fertile Rottweiler, and her one remaining pup. Dogs LOVE rib bones, and I don't see a damn thing wrong with making friends with large dogs in the neighborhood.

I walked across the street and rang the doorbell. Nobody answered, so I headed off to the back yard to feed the dogs. I turned the corner of the house and almost ran into Henry. He damn near scared the shit out of me. He was taking a break from a carpentry job he was doing at the time, building a set of new countertops for the kitchen and bathroom of his house. Henry is a good jackleg carpenter.

I told him that I brought some scraps for the dogs and he told me to go ahead and feed them. I did. Katie knows me well by now but I'm glad that I also scored some points with her one remaining offspring. That mutt is going to be a BIG DOG.

Henry keeps the "pup" (who already weighs about 35 pounds) on a chain in the back yard. "That sumbitch digs like a backhoe," Henry said. "I can't keep him out of my garden and he'll chew up and eat anything he can find. I had to immobilize his ass." The dog made short work of the rib bones I fed him and whined for more. "That's the puppy in him," Henry said. "Like a woman, he whines when he doesn't get everything he wants."

Henry and I talked for a while and I agreed to help him move and install the new countertops tomorrow. Looks like I have a job for a change, even if Henry did ask if I could bring some beer when I came to help him.

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