I went down to the kitchen to feed the dog, at the regular time, schedule is key etc. The moment I walked in, I knew something was up. There was something in the air, something that I could sense.
GUILT!
The dog was in his bed and was looking sheepishly up at me. I checked his bed, he was lying on top of a bag of sweets, not the sour jellies. "Phew!" I thought, but then another thought slapped me right in the face...
You left them in the same place, and he got one of the bags!
I rushed to the spot where I had left them, no sweeties. Checked his bed, checked the floor, checked all the rooms downstairs. Then the stairs itself.
Niente.
Surely I would have heard him snacking upstairs? Better safe than sorry, I investigated all the rooms, no sour jellies, not even a granule of sugar.
A new thought struck, if I was a dog and I'd eaten something and wanted to hide the evidence, where would I put it? Think like a dog, walk a mile in someone else's footprints (paw prints?!) So off I went thinking to myself "Think like a dog", I went straight out to the garden, and there it was, or wasn't!
Oh it was a sweetie massacre! Not only had he eaten each and every one of the sweets, but he had shredded the bag too to cover his tracks.
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| Don't let that goofy expression fool you, he's a food thief! |
I could practically taste them, but I was just too late. I marched back inside muttering to myself, think Joe Pesci's character in Home Alone and you're about there. Oh and the dog knew he was in the doghouse, metaphorically. We don't actually have a dog house for him, he sleeps inside, spoiled dog. And this is the thanks I get? Hmph.
At least he has good taste in sweets, the bugger!
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