Nyla-Bone Blues

"I'm telling you Roy, if I get another one of those plastic whatever-the-heck-they-call-them, no good imitation bones, I'm going to puke all over their rug."

Sam was serious. Roy could tell how serious by the look in his eyes. He hadn't seen it since the incident with the Rogan's cat last march, but he knew it just the same. A dog's memory may be short, but it yields to that kind of emotional trauma and harbors it somewhere behind roll over and paw. Yes, Sam was serious.

"Yesterday she comes in with another goodie bag and I think to myself, 'something smoked, please something smoked.' I mean I would have killed for a pig's ear or even one of those processed strips of rawhide. Anything but another fluorescent green bone made of god knows what."

"Have you told her how you feel?"

"Roy, I'm tellin' ya, She can't take a hint. Last time I just sat there and stared at her as she pushed it in my nose like it might actually have a scent or something. I don't chew the things so they just kind of collect as she keeps trying different colors. 'How bout a yellow one Sammy, huh? Yellow is yummy isn't it?' She really is starting to sound kind of pathetic. I mean, I'm having these guilt ridden anxiety attacks and I'm starting to feel like it's my fault. Maybe I'm deficient in some way. Maybe I need to reprioritize."

"No Sam, you're just in touch with yourself. You know what you want from the relationship, you have to be strong and communicate it. You can't start sacrificing your own happiness simply because you're afraid you may break her heart. You need to assert your needs, you need jerky."

"You make everything sound so easy Roy."

"Not easy Sam, honest."

"But how? She gets so excited over the colors, the cute rubber toys, the squeaking rubber balls, I don't think I can take that away from her."

"I tell ya what...when she comes to pick you up today, take my pig's hoof and run up to her with it in your mouth. Act like you haven't seen her in months and the only way you were able to survive was through constant chewing on the hoof. When she goes to take it out of your mouth, hold onto it like it's your very own paw. She's bound to see how much you're into it and get you one of your own."

"Not bad. Not bad at all. Forceful, but not overbearing. I like it."

"Within a week you'll have nine of 'em all over your room and she'll be so happy that your happy, the cute little doggy toys will become a distant memory."

At six o'clock the front door of the Dandy Doggy Day Care Center opened and the air filled with that unique, aromatic mixture of persperation, Chanel, copier ink, coffee and Purex laundry detergent. The time had come and Sam was one step ahead of it, holding a soggy, half chewed pig's hoof in his mouth. He could hear her high pitch and just make out the soft step of her all purpose trainers as she headed toward him, leash in hand. Sam jumped from the floor with his new prize and started for her, meeting her halfway. He was laying it on thick, dancing and shaking and wagging at such a furious pace that he was helpless as the hoof started to slip in the saliva in his mouth. He tried a double-clutch-let-go maneuver in a desperate attempt at rearranging control of the prize, but he couldn't pull it off.

It fell toward the ground, wet, heavy and out of control, and broke her big toe in two places.

The very next day, Sam started chewing Nyla-Bones, yellow Nyla-Bones.