That’s where hamburger comes from?

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Daddy went to the Manatee County Fair this weekend cuz he wanted to see the steer auction. He said a client had a coulpe of grandsons who raised and showed steers.  One was called Double-stuff and the other was Kayla (the steer, not the grandsons).

What’s an auction, I wanted to know.

“That’s where they sell the steers to buyers.  They have them butchered and turned into hamburger, steaks, etc.”, said Daddy.

Oh my God. You gotta be kidding! That’s where hamburger comes from?

I’m sticking to chicken. It comes from a bag.


Chopper’s Mom had an operation

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Daddy works with Chopper’s mom.  (I didn’t have a picture of Chopper so I thought this pic appropriate.)

Anyway, Chopper is a mixed-breed according to Daddy and he lives with Bear and his Mom and Dad. Chopper’s mom was suffering with pains in her right side that increasingly grew worse.  Co-workers urged her to go to the hospital which she finally did.  Good thing too, because she had appendicitis. They operated and took it out (ouch).

Daddy says Chopper’s mom came through the operation OK and he hopes to see her back at work soon.

So, when you have a pain you better pay attention to it.  I’m sure Chopper would tell you the same, but I don’t think he has a blog.

Pooped Toy

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Pooped Raccoon

I think my toy Raccoon is too pooped to play. I seem to have that effect on my toys and even my Daddy.  I am a playoholoic.

There, I said it.  My name is Josey and I am a playaholic.  I am addicted.

They say the first step in recovery is admitting your addiction.  I say, bullpoop.  I don’t want to recover.  I want to play and I don’t care what anyone else thinks.

Soon my toy Raccoon will be all rested and ready for playtime.  I can’t wait.

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