Chicken Bone Graveyard

I walk Jack every afternoon, and I’m used to him finding little treasures along the way.  Mainly other dogs’ turds and the occasional Dorito.  There is this one house we often pass along one of our routes that produces something really special though. Chicken bones.  Yep, chicken bones.  Not like one time we saw one chicken bone there.  Jack has sniffed out multiple chicken bones at this house.  I was telling this to Rob and Em the other day and Em was like, “Yeah, I know which house you’re talking about.  He found a chicken bone there once when I walked him.”

Chicken bones and dogs don’t mix so I’m always yanking him away right before he snatches it up in his mouth.  But I’m just really confused about why there are always these bones in the front of someone’s yard.  First, they obviously have a chicken wing addiction.  Second, they have decided that their front pine tree is the perfect place to discard of the bones.  There’s something strangely eerie about it, really.

I think it’s time I organize an undercover investigation.  That or we just set up some cameras one night and wing it.  No pun intended.

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