Part II

Yeah, someone (who shall remain nameless, Bill) remembered to give the dog those Mexican Lamb Chop Bones. Let's face it, the one who shall remain nameless, BILL, cannot even remember there is milk in the refrigerator even when the milk itself is staring him right in the face jumping up and down while waving and screaming, "I am here. I am here. Drink me. Drink me." before "said nameless, BILL" turns around with open refrigerator door in hand to ask me if we have any milk?

So how did he remember to give the dog those bones? The same bones, I had hidden in a box within a bag on the third shelf in the refrigerator? The same bones I planned to toss in the trash can outside the house when I came home from the store last night? The bones I most surely assumed he would forget about? I mean, this man will not even admit the dog is his.

Anyone who has ever own a dog knows what happens, when a dog eats a bone, let alone a spicy Mexican Lamb Chop Bone late in the day? (you may want to stop reading right about now)

So guess what I was presented with first thing this morning before I even poured my first cup of coffee? Do you need a hint? Let me just say, it was the smell that hit me first followed by the sight of a very guilty looking dog?

Yeah, someone is dead when he gets home tonight and it is not the dog.