Can you believe I’ve lived nine years and I’d never had a bone until last night?
Now, I’ve also never weighed as much as I do either, but we’re not talking about that. I went to the dogtor yesterday to check on a little growth on my eye. And, of course, I had to sit on those scales. My eye is fine, but my weight isn’t.
Ouch. Dogtor Elliott tells me I’m too big for my frame. Godmother Carol begs to differ.
Me? I just gnawed on my bone. I’ll think about that tomorrow. (Me and Scarlett O’Hara. We’ve got a lot in common. Except my waist is bigger than hers.)
What You Learned Today:
- Those who know me know I carry a bit of extra weight from time to time.
- I was doing really well. Until recently.
- I prefer to think of myself as a sometimes portly pooch with some winter fat stored up.
- Scottie weight can vary. A lot. I know some BIG Scotties. I know some small ones.
- Frankly, I think I’m just right. OK…a tad pudgy, but just right for the most part.
- So tell me, do y’all eat beef bones?