Rawhide: A Dog's Review

I may just be a spring chicken (puggle), but I've learned a few things in my youth:  You eat food, and you chew toys.  That's kind of a given, I think.  

There's really no way around it.  Once I start to chew food, it kind of disappears from my mouth through some passage near my tail I think.  There's no time to chew.  With toys, I can chew forever and two things happen: either I finally get to the soft white substance similar to what's on the two ends of the ear sticks I like to chew from the bathroom trash can, or I chew off a piece small enough to disappear through the tail passage I mentioned earlier, and The Big One comes and sticks his fingers in my mouth to get it out.  I can't win.  Marf.

Then there's rawhide.  Sweet, sweet rawhide.  

The great thing about rawhide is that you can chew it, and then it gets soft enough to pull little pieces off to disappear into the tail passage.  

As of yet, I haven't been subjected to any fingers in my mouth from either The Big One or The Little One when I eat the little pieces of rawhide.  Keep your paws crossed.  

But rawhide gets kind of boring kind of quick.  Those of you who have chewed it know.  It's easiest to just chew the ends of rawhide into soft, white, wet stubs and leave them on the floor for later.  Or maybe not later.  I can do whatever I want it seems.  No matter how many I lose under the couches, marf, The Little One will just bring me more.  

The Big One and The Little One always leave some rawhide for me when I go in the crate.  It's a nice gesture, I guess, but it doesn't really pass the time.  What passes the time is the Game Show Network.  I can't hear Charles Nelson Reilly on Match Game if I'm chewing on rawhide.  Rawhide is a great thing, don't get me wrong, but I'm fine with watching Game Show Network during the day.  

Anyways, it felt good to get that out.  Tomorrow I'm hoping I get to go outside again to run around in the snow.  Yeah, I know what snow is.  I'm not a dachshund (dumb).  

Marf,

Molly