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Last night was awesome. Our people ran around the house, dressed up in silly costumes while we dogs made sure everything went as planned. It did, up until Buck decided to help himself to a few leftovers on the kitchen table. I’ll admit, we are usually good at self-control, but every now and then our bellies tend to get the better of us. For Buck, a few morsels of pie can be enticing to the point of uncontrollability. Even after Christy caught him, he was still trying to gobble down every last bit. And after all, once you’re caught doing something naughty, you might as well make it worth it. Lucky for him, the night’s events were far too uplifting for anyone to remain mad at anyone else, so things returned to fun and games rather quickly. The people-pups came and went, their bags getting plump with treats that our people gave them. It was made clear to us that those treats weren’t for us though. We would have our own to keep us satisfied. It’s been that way for years now, but I’ve always been intrigued by the smell. It is quite wonderful, and it would seem okay for the people-pups to eat them, which makes me wonder why we can’t. So, this morning I arose at my normal waking hour and tended to my usual habits. Stretch, yawn, check on the old man (I didn’t find him at his table enjoying his morning coffee), and finally exit out into the back yard to inspect the grounds and relieve myself. That’s when I found a mess to behold: The tree had paper hanging down from it, like vines. The old man was currently using a long stick to remove whatever he could reach, which wasn’t very much at all. What he did manage to get was being tossed into a pile. While he was focused on the tree, I went ahead and continued inspection on the rest of the yard and found even more violations to my territory. Aside from strange scents (at least three of them), there were some wrappers and discarded trash strewn about. They smelled wonderfully sweet, and I realized that they were the very treats that our people had been handing out last night. Curiosity currently had the better of me … I looked up to see if anyone was watching me. I spotted Christy entering the yard with Buck wiggling through the doorway at the same time (Sheesh! Didn’t anyone ever teach that pup ‘ladies first?’). She was carrying a ladder, but still had occasion to spot me and wave. Buck wasted no time and trotted over as quickly as his stubby legs could carry him. “Hey, what you got there?” Buck hollered (the lack of an inside voice does make him hard to deal with occasionally). “Take a sniff.” “Tricky-feet treats!” Buck said quietly and rather mischievously. “You gonna try it?” “I don’t know…they might not be good for us. I might get sick like the last time I ate something I wasn’t supposed to…” And that’s all I had to say before Buck ate what was left of the treat and the wrapper it was in. “Mama!” Thieves-the raccoon-sounded off like a tattle-tale alarm. He sat up on the fence right behind us, watching us and repeating the single-worded extent of his vocabulary. Of course, he didn’t have to say much for Christy to know we were doing something we weren’t supposed to. The impending trouble we were about to face did not detour Buck at the very least. He munched down the seemingly inedible wrapper while Christy tried to get it away from him. The old man looked at me when he spotted what was going on. Paws over my eyes, I surrendered, “I know nothing! It wasn’t me!” And though the wrapper was successfully removed, its remaining contents had found their way down into Buck’s belly. It took a while for him to feel the effects, which weren’t too bad. Aside from the belly ache and dizziness, along with the need to potty at an abnormal rate, you would never have guessed he had eaten those man-pup treats. Too bad it’s a lesson learned the hard way, but I hope that in the future, people won’t consider my yard a disposal site for their trash or treats. Quite frankly, it’s just plain irresponsible and rude.
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