So, Dug buried his doggy bone in the ball pit.   He then decides to eat it.

All of a sudden, he starts choking. I get a bit worried and call to him.

He slows down between bites.

He eats another piece and starts to choke again.

I get ready to take it away from him. But now he’s in the ball pit, guarding it.

The only way I can get him out is to put the cover on the pit. I proceed. He jumps out before I close it. He then jumps on top.

He’s sniffing so hard at the top it seems like he just might get it out.

But he can’t get to it.

I go upstairs. Dug follows.

I dodge back downstairs; close the door behind me. I quickly remove what’s left of the bone; break it up and put it on the floor.

Dug returns. He looks for the bone.

He eats the remains.   He’s still not satisfied. He goes back to the ball pit.  He can’t find the doggy bone.

Of course, not, he just ate it.

Well, to make a long story even longer. Dug goes to my room and searches for the doggy bone.

He starts fussing. He looks on my bed. He can’t find it.

Dug tells me off.

When it’s time for a final potty break, Dug won’t let me touch him.

Dug won’t speak to me. 

So much for a faithful companion.

This one holds a grudge.

Moral of the story:

“You can’t eat your doggy bone and have it too. “