BASSET EVIL

The other day I was enjoying my leftover spareribs (recipe not posted yet) when the dogs had surrounded me in the usual beggin' position. Now, mind you.  In spite of their powerful pleading,  that is the basset specialty, I knew that I would not and could not give them the tasty, succulent treat they desired, spare rib bones are not safe to give dogs.  However in the basset world the mere idea of a bone, the concept of a bone, the Aristotelian  model of a bone can lead to madness and chaos, the fogging of the basset brain.  Louie's eyes glazed over, with spare rib bone lust, the drool slowly hung from her jowl in a long stream of glistening siliva. Before I knew it - she snapped!  Literally and figuratively.  A tussle broke out and the fur was flying.  Heroically, Bob ran from the other room and grabbed the rump of Louie and I had the back end of Percy and we pulled them apart.  We knew little of the extent of the damages until later in the evening, at bedtime, when the dogs joined us as we snuggled under the covers, that the true damage was exposed.  Percy was perforated in the face!

Evil, Louie, bad Louie.  Poor Percy!  How can just the notion of food turn an otherwise pleasant and passive, stinky smelling hound into a crazed, blood thirsty, psychopathic killer?

No worries, Percy is healing well and is on the road to recovery.  I spent several times cleaning it with peroxide and putting iodine on it.  She's looking better every today.

Louie says she's innocent.  She can't take blame for when food takes over her psyche.