1.17.2015

January 16, 2015

White Dog just shook her head when we walked in from running a few errands. As the rest of the White Dog Army surged around us I said to Steve, "Something is not right."

And as I said it I noticed a darker shade of white amidst the pack. "Oh, no! We forgot to put Zsofia in her kennel before we left!" This was confirmed as our baby jumped up on Steve's chest to greet us. "I better check to see what damage has been done," he said as we pushed in and closed the door...leaving the grocery bags on the front porch.

Zsofia has discovered the allure of wires, especially those connecting my computer. I thwarted that exploration by placing a piece of chicken wire in the footwell of my desk trapping all of the wires behind out of paw/teeth reach. Steve made a quick circuit. Office? OK. Bathroom? No mess. Bedroom? Not even a shredded Kleenex.

"Were you a good girl?" he started to ask as she followed him into the kitchen. The rest of the WDA was strangely silent. At the doorway, Steve turned to her, "I guess the answer to that question would be NO!" She wagged and gave him her most charming head tilt.

Before leaving I began preparations for tonight's dinner by mixing the marinade and placing the chicken in it. Since the breasts were still pretty frozen I covered the bowl and placed it on the counter. No worries, right? None of the White Dogs counter surf and the Darkest White One was to be safely contained in her suite.

Except we had forgotten the last...and most critical...step.

I am not exonerating the rest of the WDA since there were eight pieces in the bowl. We cook on Fridays, Steve's day off and use the leftovers creatively for the early part of the week. I am sure the treasure was shared...including the ginger, garlic, rice wine marinade. BUT it only happened thanks to the height and reach of our young habitual criminal.

Needless to say, not a molecule of chicken remained. The bowl was found in the yard and the plastic wrap that covered it is still missing.

Steve sighed. "Thanks a lot gang. That was our dinner" and grabbed the mop. After a quick soap and rinse to cleanup stickies on the floor he began to carry in the groceries. He had lots of volunteers to point out spots on the floor that needed attention, snoopervise the unpacking and make suggestions on substitutes to replace the missing meal.

Surviving the Baby, Lesson 1003.

2 comments:

Random Felines said...

Yikes....hope no one ends up with upset tummies

Sherri Painter said...

Oh the joys of a northern breed!