Oh, Damn that dog!

So I walk into the living room a few minutes ago and Murphy drops into his "play crouch", the K9 equivalent of shouting "Are you ready to rumble?!"

Challenge accepted, punk. I bring my hands up and I grab at him as he ducks and weaves. We circle around each other like a pair of cage-fighters, me trying to reach out and tap him on the head or grab his neck and him growling and trying to catch my hands and/or work around behind me and take a nip at my backside. This is a game that's evolved over our time together and he loves it as much as I do. We'll go until someone yelps or curses or we both get tired.

Well this time, he added a new variation to the game. On the rug where we play this sat one of the marrow bones from the butcher that I'd given him a couple of days ago. Without warning, he snatched it up in his mouth, moved in, and threw it down at my feet.

Actually he threw it down ON my feet, specifically the flesh-and-bone one that was devoid of either a shoe or a sock.

O!
M!
G!

Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Game, set and match to Murphy on this day. Now I'm gonna hate him for a while.

I guess he got me back for the bath and/or the brake cleaner in the face the other day.