"Would Thing chickens give normal eggs, or would they be Thing eggs?" Cricket's brow creases. He would not want to find out firsthand, of course, because he knows how Kinner died milking a cow that was not a cow. It would be as awkward or worse to be devoured by a hen as he tried to collect eggs.

His expression clears a little as Bob explains he can't choke on the bones. That's all right thing. "So I reckon then it doesn't matter if I were to give you somethin' to eat that dogs couldn't normally, either? I know you ain't supposed to give 'em onions. Not sure why."

He puts a chicken thigh on a plate, along with half of one of the fluffy rolls Forrest brought, and sets the plate on the ground for him with a smile.