Can I Give your Dog a Bone?

I've got to admit that when it comes to food, I have a short memory.   The other day a man in the pet store sold Bracha what he claimed was a beef bone.  It had some meat on it, smelled to high heavens, and was all wrapped up in plastic.  When we got home, Bracha opened it, took one sniff, and immediately gave it to me outside, probably because she couldn't stand the smell.  (Bracha, unlike me, is a vegetarian).  When she came out a short time later, the bone was, er, gone.  Bracha's fears were well - founded.  It was a bit too much for me, and despite the fact that she cut down my dinner ration to make up for it, I was pretty sick the next day.  Bracha and I discussed it, and she said that from now on only sterile bones would be permitted, because she doesn't want me to be sick again.  And I agreed.  I realized that the day and night I spent begging Bracha to go outside and the tummy ache were just not worth the 15 minutes I had of chewing on that bone.  And if that wasn't enough, I had to undergo the indignity of eating that fluffy white stuff Bracha cooked for me!
And if that wasn't enough, today Bracha and I are walking in the moshav and along comes a man in a car.
"What a lovely dog!  Can I give him a bone?"
"Thank you, but no," replied Bracha.  "She's a guide dog and only receives food from me."
"Can I give you a bone to give her?"
Bracha agreed, and to her surprise, and horror, he extended not a bone-shaped dog biscuit, but no less than one of those large leather bones - the kind I would eat in one go!  Bracha stuffed it in her pocket, and despite my turning my head and making longing eyes at her pocket all the way home, she didn't give it to me.  Then she slipped it into the kitchen drawer, far from my chomping jaws.

I know it's there.  And I know that for my own good, she may never give it to me.  I am, indeed, deeply  deprived.  As you can see by my soft bed and basket of bones and toys...