White Dog looked away, disgusted. I had just cornered Pearl in one of the resting crates and pried a sodden wad of paper and something that could have once been food from her tightly clamped shut jaws.
I knew when she came in from the yard and tried to slink past my view that something was not as it should be. And when she did not respond to my call or offer of a cookie, I went out to discover her behind the coffee table busily chomping and tearing.
"DROP IT!" Her head popped up. "Give that to me NOW!" She grabbed whatever it was into her mouth and we played chase around the house. Thankfully Benson was sleeping across the bedroom doorway and blocked her exit.
"Where did you get this?" I asked and laughed at myself for expecting an answer. It was not something I could readily identify but I was pretty sure it was something that some rude passerby had casually tossed over our wall.
Pearl started to growl at having her "treasure" forcibly taken. I gave her a momma look.
"I don't know what this is or where it is from or how long it has been laying around. I am NOT going to let you eat this. You could get sick." I told my sometimes almost feral girl.
She looked at me, suddenly with big eyes. She walked to the hallway. Then she threw up.
From White Dog's "bedroom" suite where Nilla was resting, I heard, "Trust her. Momma knows about these things." And suddenly there was a crowd of curious White Dogs who wanted to taste what the hubbub was all about.
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