Chicken dinner...

So Brad and I had a delicious chicken dinner the other night - you know, the kind where you're starving, stop by a grocery store, and are taken in by those hot, tender, ready-to-eat, whole rotisserie chickens under the heat lamps. $5 later, you're on your way home, ravenous, lusting after the juicy goodness in the bag on your lap.

We tore into that poor hapless chicken, me going for the dark meat and him for the white, utter perfection, dripping down our chins, wondrous after a long day. The dog was watching us with bated breath, trying not to beg but doing poorly - when would he get his share?

I finished first, sighing and rubbing my full tummy, and gave the lucky spoiled dog all my leftover skin and soft parts. Brad finished next, setting the majority of the chicken bones (including the entire skeleton and heaps of gristle and other remnants) on his plate on the counter, admonishing dogger that he'd have to wait for his treat. (Jean Luc used to jump up on the counter to steal food, but we broke that habit early on and he knows better....)

Sitting watching TV and reading, our bellies comfortably full and satisfied, with dogger lying in the kitchen and chewing his rawhide, we passed the evening.

After a while, Brad goes into the kitchen for something, and after a long pause, calls out: "Hon, did you do something with the chicken?"

My response: "Um, no...............uh, why?"

"It's gone!"

At this, dogger looks up from his rawhide, glances sideways at Brad with a grin, and slowly starts thumping his tail. "Like, duh, guys....hee hee," he seems to say.

"Jean Luc, did you REALLY eat the WHOLE chicken????" More and faster tail thumps, I swear to God he's grinning. Then he leaps up with a self satisfied smirk and starts trying to PLAY with us! So pleased with himself....

We search everywhere. Kitchen, deck, living room, bathroom, hall, bedroom, everywhere. No trace. No bone fragments. No gristle. No skin. No grease on the carpet. No smears anywhere. The only sign that he took the chicken bones from the plate is a streak of grease across the counter and down the edge of the dishwasher from pulling it, then....nothing! Somehow, he pulled it down, ate the ENTIRE kit and caboodle (and did so very quietly I might add, in full sight, with his back to us so we thought he was chewing his rawhide the whole time), and left almost no trace. Amazing.

Brilliant criminal dog. He's got a great future in meat stealing....

We laughed so hard, and laughed the next day too....

.....and worried of course since cooked chicken bones can be bad news, but he hasn't had any issues (no vomiting, acting in pain, abdomen tenderness, etc.) and the bones were super soft from being cooked so long, so we think he's okay. Still, hysterical.