Tuesday, April 24, 2012

who stole the cookies?

So, when I got home today from Louisa's gymnastics...I was greeted at the door by Mallard and his infamous "bear face." If you know Mallard, you know this face. And it is NEVER a good sign.

For those not privy to his shenanigans - Mallard has a severe case of PICA. He loves if it is a food item, but does not discriminate. His fave is a trash can. I cannot tell you how many times I've come home and found a trash can over-turned and its contents strewn from one end of the house to the other. I also cannot admit how much I actually paid for our most recent trash can since it was "guaranteed dog proof." And yes, he found his way into that one too.

He has quite the reputation for eating things. Jeans, shoes, rugs, kitchen cabinets, enough pine cones to fill a large tree, a bag of Reese's peanut butter cups (including the bag and foil wrappers), a hairbrush, hot rollers, 2 pizzas waiting for the oven, raw pork chops sitting out to marinate, a chocolate pie INCLUDING the glass dish it was in (that was a lovely vet bill), a roll of masking tape, buttons from my sewing room, a Barbie doll head, a rotisserie chicken carcass, ALL of Murray's catnip toys, etc, etc, etc. This list is just to name a few.

Anyways - back to bear face. When greeted by Mallard's "bear face" you know you are in for a treat. And usually not the good kind. He comes to the door shaking, barely able to move his arms and legs to walk, his ears are flat and almost glued to the side of his head, the very, very, very tippy-top of his tail is wagging JUST a bit while tucked between his back legs. And those eyes. I giggle just thinking about them. I swanny they have tears coming out of them. Pitiful. Like, full-fledged 1-800-pitiful. It is hard not to laugh at him but usually the destruction that is laying behind him will keep the giggles at bay.

So, I walk in the door to the kitchen and see Bear Face. (Did  I mention he has impeccable timing? Like if I am about to wet my pants, or have to do something ASAP or have a screaming baby in my arms) I see no visible signs of destruction so I go ahead and change Nash and put him down for a nap, put Lou in her room for "quiet time" (which is ANYthing but quiet usually) and then go to investigate. I almost trip and fall flat on my face because Bear Face is following so close behind my every step. I mean, gotta love a labrador for their loyalty and eager to please their master. Bless it. I search the usual suspects, the trash can, the bathroom trash can, my sewing room and cannot find anything. Then I feel awful wondering if he maybe had a seizure while I was gone b/c sometimes when he gets upset after a seizure Bear Face comes to visit. Right as I was about to bend down and snuggle with him, I saw it. In the living room.


Yes, looks as though someone got into the pantry and found the Little Debbies. And soon as I see it he runs over and acts all pitiful like, "Okay Mommy, that's it. You caught me, now love me and rub my neck so that I know you still love me!" Well, I cannot find any other sign of the rest of the box and start to panic thinking he ate it all again, just like the chocolate pie and the Reese's cups. I am just about to call sweet, sweet understanding and wonderful Dr. Camp when I just happen to look up and see this.


Partners in crime? I wonder. Lucy was MORTIFIED that she was caught. I mean, LOOK at her face! She still wont look at me. I cannot stop laughing and Mallard is so glad all is right in the world again.

Hooligans. Every single last one of them. As Carol Burnett sang in Annie:

some women are dripping with diamonds, some women are dripping with pearls...
look at me, look at me, look at what i'm dripping with...

 (insert here) HOOOOOOLIGANS!!!

1 comment:

kathy said...

at least they were not eating chocolate, which can kill them. lol