CornDog...

Richard and I are still eating dinner at Mom and Pa's because we don't yet have a fully functional kitchen. When we walk down there we usually take the dogs. Echo and Flint hang out in the fenced yard Pa made for them. It surrounds the house and encompasses the underside of the deck. On hot days the dogs hang out under the deck. Otherwise they have free run of the yard.

On nice days we generally eat on the deck. Yesterday was no exception. Any leavings from the meals are tossed over the fence to where the squirrels and raccoons gather in the late evening to feed.

So after dinner Pa tossed the corn cobs over the fence. Only he missed with one.

We were chatting about religion, death, politics and taxes when we heard this crunching noise.

Flint had found a corncob and was busily gnawing the leftover kernels off.

My dog. The nutjob.