Colonel Be Gone!

I just wasn't in the mood for fried chicken last night.  I ate a few bites of a breast piece and then put it back in the box. The chicken was extra greasy last night and already lukewarm when I received my box.

Evoke Auschwitz Mantra...

I am not ungrateful at all.  It's just that I get chicken almost every week and long for some variety. It's my own fault. I just try to make things easier on my father and Charlie by ordering chicken. Mom flies in the face of convention and always gets Wendy's.

I did tear apart a wing piece and that was Maggie's supper. I just had to make sure there weren't any chicken bones in what I gave her. I've read and heard horror stories of dogs getting chicken bones lodged in their intestinal tracts. The Magster was certainly hungry last night. She ate all her chicken and then ate a big old honking bowl of her Purina One.

Let me tell you something about the Magster. About a week ago, I gave her a biscuit which she promptly buried it in the backyard. Well, Maggie came sauntering back inside the other night with that week old biscuit in her mouth dirt and all. It was slimy, black, and green and she still didn't hesitate to eat it. I threw up in my mouth a little bit after witnessing that.