What makes sticks so fascinating? Is there somewhere, buried deep in the mind of a waggy, smily pet like me, a remnant of a dark and distant past, when dogs where hunters and scavengers, and a lovely leg bone from a deer or other prey would be a prize posession, something worth fighting over and running away with to gnaw on in private. I don’t know, I don’t ponder over such things. I just love sticks.
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