No, Ralph. No.

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Ralph has a bone under the kitchen table. I know he is there even before I see him because I can hear him chewing. That’s the expression, isn’t it, a dog with a bone?
He alternates with a pig’s ear. Millie, who is normally squeamish about these things, picked up the ear, presumably wrapped in cellophane or some other containing material, at Safeway for $1.50.

A real bargain and Ralph loves it. He chews away at the fleshy part near where the bone would have once joined the pig’s head. He chews it until it turns into a grey pulp. The outer ear is charcoal black as if the manufacturers had exposed it to high heat. Perhaps it is a way of preserving it. This bone hangs around much like an old bone, now under the kitchen table, later in the hallway, tomorrow in the backyard. Ralph worries it for a while then gets distracted onto some other object and leaves the ear where he first chewed it. This way the ear does the rounds of the house.

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