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  • Kerby is a smart dog.

    He picks up patterns quickly. He has learned the sound of the mail truck’s brakes and sits poised to attack when the postman comes to the door.

    He likes to sit in the kitchen and watch while I make dinner. When I cook chicken, I cut off the fat and the skin and fry it separately just for him.

    He appreciates the effort, I think, and for a while he seemed to enjoy playing the inferior mammal role. Recently he offered some advice.

    “You know, you could cook it with butter instead of canola oil. It would taste a lot better, and you wouldn’t have to use so much rosemary to give it some flavor.”

    He had a point.

    “But what about cholesterol?” I said. “I mean I don’t want to keel over at 55.”

    He raised his ears at me. “Are we talking dog years here? Because 55 sounds pretty good run from where I’m sitting.”

    Another good point.

    “Tell you what,” he said. “Why don’t you try a half portion of chicken and make yourself a nice salad?”

    “Yeah ok.” I paused. “But what should I do with the other half of this chicken breast?”

    He just looked at me.

    “Oh yeah… right.” I said.
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