My Hooligans

What is up with these two?  Orso and Charlie are at it again.  Once again they lulled me into a false sense of security thinking that they could be trusted to have the run of the house while home alone.  I was sure that since AJ was gone that these two hooligans would behave without AJ to instigate raiding the pantry.  And once again I was wrong.  I should be used to being wrong.

I know that with my foot surgery things have been thrown off.  Their routine has changed drastically.  But it’s not like they are getting no exercise.  We have our best friend coming over every day and walking the dogs, giving them lots of work and exercise.  So what happened?

I came home from work and was greeted by Mitch telling me to go check the kitchen and see the gift that the two had left for us.  Knowing that was not a good omen, I hobbled into the kitchen to find a mangled jar of my favorite local honey on the counter.  Evidently someone, my guess, Orso jumped up on the table and snatched the bottle of honey off the table and chewed the top off to enjoy my honey.  There was more than half gone.  I hope he gets sick, but not in the house.  But he won’t, he’s a Labrador retriever.

At dinner though we discovered another surprise.  Mitch went to butter his baked potato and looked at me and asked where the butter was.  Not on the table.  We went on a butter tub hunt throughout the house, kind of like an Easter egg hunt.  We searched under tables and dressers, under the bed and in the corners.  No luck.  The tub of butter has disappeared.  No slimy smears, no bits of plastic about.  Nothing, no clue, just no butter.  It was as though a master cat burglar had come into the house stole the butter and disappeared without a trace.

Now comes the fun part, watching the dogs closely to make sure they don’t get sick.  Poop watch, checking for bits of plastic, is so much fun and something I thought we were beyond now that AJ is not here.  Wrong again.

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10 thoughts on “My Hooligans

  1. The other night I woke to the unmistakable sound of retching in the bedroom. Mick had chosen the wee hours of the morning to get rid of the green plastic bits he’d snacked on from the travel crate while I was out earlier that day. Apparently, a selection of Nyla bones and Kongs just is not as attractive as renegade munching on found objects. I think it also was a protest against dreaded crate time.

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