The other night my poodle Guy, the notorious potdog was having a really hard time getting onto the couch. He was lethargic and seemed sick. I carried him to the bed and laid with him, consoling and cooing to him. He's eight years old and big dogs don't often live very long. My last standard died at 10 and he was superior in health. I was actually weeping as I stroked him and laid next to him reading my Kindle.
Next day, I notice something in the corner of the bedroom. It was a boston butt pork roast I ahd been thawing in the sink. All that was left was the center bone and the outside skin. The mother####er had gotten sick because he ate an entire, raw 15# hunk of pork.
Good thing GM didn't send me an xmas package this year, or he probably would have gone in the freezer and helped himself to a second helping.
