A plate of syrup blew across the road followed by the Bluejay. It’s mind set on getting one small taste of that syrup while avoiding the mailbox on the other side of the road. Bob had other plans for that plate. That dog was always off its chain in more ways than said. It didn’t matter how many times the local pound picked it up, it always managed to escape its bonds, just like today.
Bob dove for the plate, chasing the bluejay off, clenching the syrup smeared paper plate in his teeth. His prize that he wasn’t allowed to keep for long when the school bus stopped at the end of the driveway, letting a boy and a girl off the bus.
“Bob, what do you have there in your mouth?” The boy grabbed ahold of Bob’s collar and slipped the plate from its mouth. Not once did the boy notice the ink smear across the dog’s white nose. That he noticed when he saw the state of his bedroom. All his pens chew and on the floor.
“Bad Bob, bad.”
Bob didn’t care. He took his place on the bed, closed his eyes and slept while the boy fussed about the mess.
I could see Keelaa doing something like this. She can be such a devious little pup. Chewing, that’s her bane. If allowed, she would eat, chew every piece of wooden furniture. Now I keep her well stocked in chews – rawhide. She likes beef bones too. Those I tend to cook for 10 minutes under the broiler before giving it to her. My dog is domesticated. She likes her food cooked.
She is older now, almost at the one year mark. That’s next month. It’s hard to believe she is that old. At least she never got enormous. A small dog of about 25 pounds, the perfect size.