Tuesday, September 1, 2009

It wasn't me!

Oh, our boy. He is a pack dog, through and through. In a pack of dogs, (cue the music from the dance/fight scene in "West Side Story,") at meal time, the canines at the top of the hierarchy of the pack will eat first. After the are finished, whatever is left behind is fair game for the lesser members of the pack. Sounds about right, right? Wonder how this translates in domesticated dog world?

It means if you leave it, you lose it. Especially around here. I can remember hearing Sarge's owner complaining that her son left his sandwich on the counter "for a second," and turned around to find Sarge had eaten it and was waiting for another. Our boy will get into the garbage as soon as we leave the house, which led to the raw pork eating /whole house steam cleaning incident of 2008. Oddly, Gonzo does not eat our cat's food. Ever. That is the exception, not the rule. (Can you tell I watched "He's Just Not That Into You" yesterday?)

The other area that seems to have a giant green light over it is the kitchen island. If we leave it, Gonzo will eat it. Especially bakery items. Our boy has eaten countless loaves of bread, an entire bag of these little Latin croissants (don't know what they are really, but oh-so-good,) and numerous bags of hot dog and hamburger rolls. Why don't we learn to use the bread drawer, you ask? Because we are beyond forgetful.

This morning, I awoke to an extremely loud belch from under the bed. Praying that our boy hadn't just barfed under there, I cajoled him out, and went downstairs to let him outside. As I turned to walk into the kitchen, I saw it there on the floor. The tray from the day-old donuts my husband had bought last night torn open with a gob of sprinkled frosting next to it. Of course, Gonzo was the culprit, skulking off under the dining room table, but sadly, my first instinct was not of our boy's health and well-being. Nope, not even close.

No, my first concern was that my husband would think that in the 12 hours he will be gone to work today (loooong commute) that I would eat all 4 of his day-old donuts. It wasn't me! I was actually going to try to stare down said donuts in a battle of will today. It really wasn't me!

Good Boy, Gonzo. Go eat some grass, and work on your skulk for when he gets home so he'll know it wasn't me, ok?

More to come, so come back if you're interested.


  1. Ah yes, the steam cleaning incident of 2008, you had one too? Ours involved a squirrel :S

  2. LOL it's funny how similar dogs and cats are. Great blog.