White Dog holds herself above the "common mischief" of the rest of the White Dog Army. Knowing in her Queenly heart that anything she wants will come to her without exerting too much energy or risking a negative reaction, she is usually well-behaved and trustworthy.
She was sitting on my shoulder watching as Michael first fed the Army and then following their milling about in the kitchen as he prepared nachos for his dinner. Quinn, Oso, and Puff are notorious for rushing to the open refrigerator door and standing there to block its closing as they longingly "window shop." The human in the kitchen must push them back and shut the door in their faces. Tonight was no exception. Michael backed the WDA out and refocused on making his dinner.
But tonight Puff, who usually watches prep lying in front of the frig, sat facing the door, as it turns out doing a little White One problem solving. Suddenly she flew past WD and I in the living room. White Dog jumped down to follow and investigate.
At the same time, Michael yelled, "HEY! Get out of the frig!" at Quinn as he pulled the loaf of bread off the shelf inside. Oso was standing with his feet on the bottom of the unit, fortunately too slow to decide before Michael grabbed him and shut the door. He growled his Little Man grrrr in frustration.
White Dog came back in carrying what HAD been a baggie containing a small piece of leftover chicken that she had stolen back from Puff. All that was left was the torn plastic...and only part at that.
It is my fondest hope that somehow Michael had simply failed to close the door tightly and that the crimes were ones of opportunity. BUT in the back of my mind I am fearful of the silence and not being able to watch my appliances. What if the door was solidly closed (as Michael vehemently claims) and Still Another White Dog has figured out how to paw the door open? The possibility is not out of the question for this super-smart breed designed to do circus tricks. If that is the case leftovers, deli meats, and baked goods will never be safe again... and I shudder to even think of lamb shanks marinating overnight.
Meantime, White Dog is back at my side with a look of expectation and implied blackmail. "Sure, it could have been me," the look says, "but like they say, you rub my belly, I rub yours! Let's be civilized here. So how about a ham sandwich?"