Everyone has their own language with their loved ones. Thankfully there were no other humans around to hear my conversation with the dogs this morning because in reflection, I may have sounded a wee bit macabre:
*FoodLady leaves bedroom, sees Sam in hallway*, “Sam, where did you get that trachea?! I didn’t give you a trachea……Herbert!?! you have a trachea as well!? I see….so we raided the treat box. Mia, no….you can’t steal Herbert’s trachea–he’ll kill you…….here, here *grabs bully stick from box*….have a penis. Okay, fine….Sam, have the penis. Mia, here is a trachea.”
*happy peaceful canine munching sounds*
*FoodLady walks past bathroom, sees another stolen trachea carefully half hidden under a towel and bellows*, “Herbert! we do not hide stolen trachea in the bathroom!” *picks up trachea and stomps around looking for more stolen bovine anatomy.*
Good morning from the anatomy thieving fuzzy-butts.