Here's a "clever dog? naughty dog?" tale about my adorable ever-loving, ever-enthuastic, often skittish, but always curious, Just Harry.
First the "clever dog." Saturday morning, we all slept a bit late. Usually that's not a problem as the Boyz can "hold it" without any difficulty. But as I stumbled out of bed and went into our bathroom, whom do I see stepping out of the shower but no other than JH himself. "Hmm," thought I. He rarely goes in there. The last time was last winter when some kind of four-legged intruder apparently had made his way into the attic, causing JH great consternation. Even though it was in the middle of the night, he barked and barked and barked until I managed to reassure him that we were not under attack. Nevertheless, he spent the rest of the night paws crossed in front of the bathroom door -- just in case.
So "hmm," I thought. And then I looked at the shower floor and saw the grout between the tiles where he had been was a bit darker. "Hmmm," again. Yep, Just Harry had gone into the shower stall to relieve himself, rather than on the bedroom rug. Clever dog!!!!!
Ah, but Sunday is when my little wirey boy showed his other irrepressible side. We had taken my dad out to lunch and he had given us a little plastic bag of rugelach -- a delicious often jam-filled pastry that is a Jewish favorite, especially on certain holidays. We had that little bag and a few other things in a larger bag that I set on the floor of the foyer when we got home. (You see where this is going, right?)
Both dogs sniffed the bag when I set it down, but I forgot about it until later that afternoon when I was thinking about dessert for dinner. "Jack, did you move the bag with the rugelach?" "No," replied husband. "Where did you leave it?" "In the bag in the foyer. And it's not there."
Search party assembled, we didn't have to look too far before we found an empty plastic bag on the sofa in the living room, nary a crumb left to tell the story. Only the tooth marks on the plastic (fortunately still 99 percent whole), bore witness to the feast.
Fortunately too, no chocolate was involved. And no tummy aches or other disturbances. No dessert for the humans, either.
When interviewed (on the very scene of the crime), Just Harry simply said, "Hey, a dog's gotta' do what a dog's gotta' do!
(How did I know it was Just Harry and not Mr. Jake? Sometimes a mom just knows.)