The scene: Me sitting at the kitchen table painting. The kids in their bedrooms. The living room empty…or so I thought.
A sound emanates from the living room: rattle, rattle, crunch, crunch. I look. No one there. Hmmm. I return to painting. Again, a sound: crinkle, crinkle. crunch, crunch. My eyes dart towards the living room. Nothing. Should I check? I decide to wait. Back to painting. Crunch, crunch. rattle, crinkle. I turn swiftly, hoping to catch a glimpse of the source. I walk into the living room, puzzled, as it’s empty of all of the creatures that occupy my house. Figuring the culprit ran to find shelter in another room, I call out to the subject most likely causing the all too familiar chewing noise. When I called the dog, she didn’t come running from another room. Rather, I heard a slight scratching and shifting from under the ottoman, a favorite hiding spot of one hairy mutt. I peered under the piece of furniture (and yes, the ottoman is in need of a little repair). I was met with a face that tries so hard not to make eye contact…a face that exudes guilt.
Finally, eye contact. And what had this face done? Well, this cute hairy face had found some old fashioned stick candy, and proceeded to hide under the ottoman and chew it up, getting sticky all over my rug and pieces of candy tangled in that little beard of hers. I tried to be firm in my punishment, but she apologized in her usual way:
And I forgave her like I always do. That’s the price I pay for owning such a mischievous, cute dork of a dog.