But let’s just say my years as a cat owner have made my dog game lax.
The first day I got there, I had sat down to eat a sandwich – the dogs had settled in, were napping adorably: one in the chair next to me, the other in the living room. All’s well.
Then the one in the living room starts barking. I’m only mildly paranoid, but this is a new house, new neighborhood. There could be prowlers, who knows? So I go to check that I’ve locked the door, just in case.
Again, all’s well.
I come back to the table, I sit down, notice the dog who was sitting next to me is gone.
I look down at my empty plate.
The subtle and devious nature of their plan dawns on me.
Before I even make it to the next room over I hear the “hhrork, hhrork, hhrork” of a yorkipoo wolfing down half a sandwich in one swallow. Two seconds, there was nothing left. Gone. R.I.P sandwich, I barely knew thee.
Needless to say I brought my A-game to supper.