Doggit !!

Dear Dog,

I hope you enjoyed your impromptu picnic.  Or maybe it was a Progressive Dinner?

I don't recommend ripping through black plastic only to be rewarded by the day-old juices left in the wrapper from the previously raw turkey.  But taste is subjective.

I hope the fist-sized lump of week-old rye bread satisfied.

And the tin can lids...well, sure...live a little.

And the fact that you enjoyed it in SO MANY DIFFERENT SETTINGS....the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, the hallway, the bedroom.  Well...no one can say you aren't well traveled.

I didn't have to stomp my foot, raise my voice, or even scowl.  You have THAT kind of intuition...we are on a finely-tuned wavelength.  You have ESP.  You greeted me at the door as I arrived home, and then promptly put yourself in Time Out in the back bathroom.

My silence was eloquent.  Your artistic flair was evident all across the white tile floor.  Yes...I was...floored.

I've had my two cups of red tea, and I'm calm.  Calm after cleaning up my floor that only yesterday I had mopped and shined.  No, really, I'm not upset.  Not at all upset about the concept of smearage being smeared smearily allll across it.  (Remember how much I LOVE to clean floors...)

You're truly irresistible.  Yes you are, oh see...now you have determined your Time Out is over, and you're back with your halo repositioned, as if nothing ever happened.   Yes, yes you are!

You look at me with hopeful eyes, thinking there is further food fun in store for you, though I have to say I do remember very well what the contents of the trash was before you became the Canine Garbage Recycler.  Your brown eyes may try to work their magic, but I'm strong, even stalwart, at the moment.  Your taste is questionable, but I have no doubts... you are replete.

So, human-to-dog memo:  DEAR DOG, YOU HAVE HAD YOUR DINNER.  YOU'RE DONE TILL TOMORROW.  THAT'S RIGHT...NO KIBBLE TONIGHT.  MUCH LOVE BUT DONT EVEN THINK ABOUT GOING INTO MY KITCHEN.  LOVE, MOM

P.S.  If you have a relapse, a moment of intestinal deja-vu... along the lines of daring to lick the frozen flagpole, going where eagles dare,  crossing through No Man's Land just for the thrill of the chase...

Knock yourself out.

I already took the trash out and changed the liner.  The two used teabags I just discarded there are for your sole enjoyment. 


Bon Appetit!