Friday, January 22, 2010

When Good Dogs Go Bad

"..... the curious incident of the dog in the night-time," to quote Mr. Sherlock Holmes. A surprise upon returning home from a dinner out with friends. The game was afoot. The Woodhaven Street Irregulars, lead by Mr. Dandy Boy Bray, had committed a hideous crime. A lovely vintage pillow was slit with such surgical precision that it was hard to find the initial entry point. Upon further inspection, I discovered that the seam had been meticulously pulled apart, leaving the fabric unharmed. The only evidence of a crime was fiberfill stuffing, disguised as small cloud puffs, on the rug. The question rises, was the crime committed by one, or by all? I have the advantage of knowing their habits and inspected each dog carefully. Shy April held her head low. "Not I," she told me with a nod of her head. Foxy cooly assessed the damage and had no comment. Chloe, looking preoccupied, busy chewing away as if to prove she had no part of this, her hidden wickedness, a puff of stuffing, on the tip of the bone. The others stayed clear of the scene. However improbable this seemed, all the dogs had gone bad this evening.

"Excellent!" I smiled as I grabbed my camera. I am no role model for my pack of hounds, for I find more fun in discovering the crime, than they do in committing it.

The dogs watch in concern, for it is elementary, there will be no treats tonight. A lesson dogs know, but rarely listen to. For dogs, the fun is in the doing.

Widow Lesson Learned: When The Game Is Afoot, It Is Better To Be The One Standing On Two Feet.

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