"Maggie's looking a bit portly," dad told me this afternoon. "She's gained some weight."
He had swung by with some of that new KFC grilled chicken for me to try.
"She's going to be diabetic with all the sweets you give her," he added.
"Ah," I replied. "Your mother would say she is just a healthy dog."
My attention turned to the drumstick of grilled chicken that lay before me on a plate.
"What do you think?" dad asked.
"The chicken or Maggie?"
"The chicken, stupid!"
"It would make some killer chicken salad," was my reply.