The dog is a petty thief
Remember that commercial for a familiar candy? The one about “eat the red one last?” I knew you’d recall that little ditty. At our house, we have a creature with an acquired taste for the red ones. And the blue ones. And the whole rainbowish spectrum, it seems. On three occasions now, we’ve come home to find disembowled cardboard boxes on the carpet, with nary a wafer in view.
My fault; I find that it’s the perfect treat for those long bus rides in the evening. Small enough that the seat neighbour isn’t openly offended by my decision to break fast. The little store in front of the bus stop (where I actually go to break bills, to assure coffee machine change for the morrow) has them on sale, often. I buy a couple of boxes, eat one and then become a victim of crime. After all, when you take something from someone else, it counts as theft. Not piracy.
The dog isn’t averse to a balanced diet. Along with the kibble that we put out on her behalf, she also has a keen interest in breads. Tonight, a whole package of pita rounds. I agree, they were a touch stale, but hummus covers that fault. All that remained was a disembowled plastic sack. Obviously, the lack of an opposable thumb is less important to the canine crowd.
Maybe we need a sitter. We know that the dog understands right from wrong; she puts on a penitent air as soon as we unlock the door. She just needs supervision (or less opportunity to offend).
