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Not so bare bones

Last Sunday we had a farm roast for dinner.

Mom shoved it in the oven early in the morning and I had to live with that tantalizing smell for hours until it was ready.

You might be wondering what exactly is a farm roast?

It’s a leg of mutton that comes from the farm – kindly supplied by Kerneels and Alpha’s parental agent, Lucien.

The aroma wafted in every corner of the house.

Eventually I relocated to the kitchen and drooled in front of the oven.

Give up Fudges – it’s still going to take a long time, said Mom.

I stared at her – how about just a little taste then?

She compromised and gave me a carrot instead.

Poor substitute but beggars cannot be choosers.

Eventually that divinely smelly sucker came out of the oven and Alpha started carving it up.

Mom snitched a bit and shared it with me.

Delicious!

Alpha chased us both out of the kitchen.

Clearly he did not appreciate slobbery globs dripping onto his foot whilst he chopped.

Food was dished and devoured.

Everybody did their duty and shared tidbits with my own furry self.

Mom had made gravy too and this left extra tasty smears on the plates for me to polish off.

Except for that wretched Em – she’s not above licking her own plate if the food’s really good.

When mom gives her a hairy eyeball she maintains it’s a sign of appreciation.

Much later mom called me out from under the table where I was avoiding the thunder dog.

Fudges, she said, would you like to have a chew on this?

My woggledy whiskers!

Would I just.

It was a magnificent bone – with lots of meaty morsels clinging to it.

I snarfed it quick and dashed to the carpet.

Oi! Yelled mom – take that outside madam.

Luckily she got distracted and I snuck back onto the carpet with my treasure.

I gnawed and slavered all over that bone.

Had just finished removing all the meaty bits and was about to start crunching when mom appeared.

Without giving me the slightest bit of warning she whipped that bone out from right under my nose.

That’s enough Fudgie, she said.

You are not allowed the boney bits.

What! Enough?

No ways – I was just getting started.

She popped it into the rubbish.

I stared sorrowfully at the bin hoping it would materialize again.

Sadly it did not.

At Caxton, we employ humans to generate daily fresh news, not AI intervention. Happy reading!

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