The Well-tempered Dog
Phoebe manages to grab Mr. Smiley and again holds it over her head. There is a pattern to The Games.

He is a thing of beauty in flight.


You have to let me rip it up now, Phoebe. I have earned this toy.

If it belongs to anybody, it belongs to me, Chet Baker. I have worked for it. And I know you are going to take it away from me again. You are a rotten person, Phoebe, even if you are my sister.

Mether is a rotten person too, for laughing at my distress. Besides, I am not ripping Mr. Smiley up right now. I am keeping him safe.

Well, Chet Baker, I am afraid the game is over. You could choke on bits of Mr. Smiley, and it is time for you to chew a Nylabone. No matter how much you roo or how cute you are, you won't get Mr. Smiley to destroy.


I think you will play with it, Chet Baker, because we love you and want you to be safe.


Labels: Boston terrier, Chet Baker, dog games, Nylabones

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