White Dog gave Steve a strange look as he gifted me with what was left sitting on the deck, outside. It was relatively pristine with not a single bite mark on the roll. It was, Steve surmised, left as perhaps a communal courtesy.
We chuckled and Steve returned the partial roll of toilet paper to the bathroom to be used for cleanups that did not require "germ-free."
Next time, Steve went into the yard, he found the roll unrolled at the bottom of the ramp...as if some engineer had been experimenting. Again, he brought it back inside.
"I wonder who has discovered how to take the roll off of the holder?" he asked. I had my suspicions, said nothing, but watched Miss Bailey quietly leave the room.
Her plan lacked a contingency, White Dog explained to her later. Good plans ALWAYS require at least one backup plan.
Later, our Blue-Eyed Dark One was just pushing her way out of the dog door when she noticed Steve standing on the deck with YoYoMa. The roll of tp was gently between her lips. She slide quietly backward into the house...these facts we put together after.
...AFTER she came bounding into the living room, dropped the roll on the chair and then curled up on top of it.
"Um, Bai? Whatcha got under you?" I asked her. She turned her head to intently stare out of the window.
Steve came in. "Hey Bailey, I thought you were coming outside with us!" "She can't," I told him. "Our girl is busy hatching an egg." He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
I reached for the treat jar and the entire WDA came running. Bailey ssttrettttchhhed her head to reach me but her anatomy's short neck failed her. I could tell was torn as the others got treats and scurried off the enjoy them. I shook the jar at her.
"Decision time, Sweet Girl. Trick or Treat?" She squirmed on the chair for another 10 seconds before gracefully stepping down to claim her treat.
Steve reclaimed the roll and laughed as he headed to the bathroom to figure out how to bolt the rolls into place.