Cave Canem

Today at lunch with my coworker, Kim, I mentioned that in addition to many bikes, I'd like a table saw in my future garage. The caveat with that idea though, is that table saws are scary enough when you're working on them in a shop with other people - people whom in the event of an emergency can help out. As many of you know, I'm a passer-outer, so the thought of severing a finger on this fictional saw of mine, then immediately growing faint and hitting the floor, is not something I ever want to contend with, sans nearby help. This consideration lead to the following question: at what point to I cease to be 'beloved master' to my dogs, and become edible. I.E. is the only reason Maggie and Summer aren't interested in eating my finger, that it's attached to me and not laying on its own on the floor? If we were to run this scenario with Becky out of town, me unconscious on the floor minus one finger, and the dogs watching on...well, I could see Maggie being pretty distressed about my well-being, but I think maybe Summy is going for the finger. I can probably make do without a table saw, I suppose.

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