An embarrassing cannibalism faux pas was narrowly averted this evening on the front lawn of the Mansion.
The Pony and I stepped out onto the front porch to feed the new puppy some Hearty Loaf. That's gooshy canned "puppy chicken", according to Ol' Roy brand. The Devil's brand. I normally would not feed such poison to my puppy, but she was off her feed after being spoiled with diced ham from The Pony's grandma. Half a can is enough at one feeding for this little imp.
Unfortunately, the big dogs feel that they, too, deserve a portion of puppy chicken. A portion the size of all of it. So we have to remain vigilant so the pup can eat. As a distraction, I took out some chicken bones from lunch. Not the splintery, dog-choking chicken bones that people used to toss their dogs willy-nilly back in the day. These were bones from two chicken breasts. Soft bones. Rubbery, even.
Tank the lazy beagle was slow on the uptake. While he was snoozin' on his fat feet, a hen darted in and snatched Tank's breastbone forthwith. I shouted. The Pony gasped. "Get it! Get it back! Go get that bone from the chicken!" The Pony galloped into action. He chased that hen three times around the front yard before she dropped the cartilaginous remains of a distant cousin. He was not the only one in pursuit. All the other hens, and two of the roosters, joined him in the quest. That poor hen must have felt like the kid who unwraps a piece of gum on the playground.
Thank the Gummi Mary, order was restored, and no cannibalism took place on our watch.