The other night, the human got a couple of lobster tails on sale at the store and brought them home, chortling with delight. I get my usual boring dog food (sheesh), and she goes through culinary gyrations to make this amazing meal, such as drizzling melted garlic butter on the lobsters and roasting them in the oven. So, they were a little on the slippery side. She was trying to get the meat out of the end of one of the tails when fffft, it shot out of her fingers and hit the floor a few feet away. Hellooo, Corgi! I was on that thing in half a blink of a flea's eye. Crunch crunch crunch and the human is all vexed and telling me I'm eating my buddy Larry the Lobster. Isn't that just mean? I looked over at Larry, who was sitting there just fine as usual, and I told her, "larry schmarry".