Charley was begging again. Staring at me with those old man eyebrows fluttering in the breeze.
I was eating boneless Buffalo wings that were hot enough to require a thin coating of ranch dressing.
Time to teach that stinker a lesson.
I picked out a nice, big bite, making sure it was nearly dripping with with the hot sauce. I was done anyway, so I held it out on my fork, tempting the doe-eyed mutt.
It’s important to note that an uncle would wave Tabasco sauce in front of his dog’s nose if he’d done something bad. It wasn’t nice, but it worked wonders.
Charley took the bait. He gobbled down that bite of hot chicken in an instant.
Then he asked for more. You know, with his pleading expression.