I've spent hours this past weekend and yesterday looking for lost possessions. My dogs never leave my side. Whenever I look for things they get excited and anxious because they think either (A) I'm packing and going to be leaving for an unwelcome period of time, or (B) that I'm going to flush out a mouse or some kind of pest that they can pounce upon.
Looking under couches, behind boxes, and in laundry baskets for hours. Dogs constantly under my feet staring at me. More looking. More staring. Generally no results.
I've started to get frustrated with my dogs. Aren't they supposed to be able to smell an ounce of gasoline in a burned down house? If they can find a pot leaf hidden in the spare tire in my trunk, shouldn't they be able to find a cell phone charger under Dick Francis's sweaty workout clothes?
But they don't care about finding a cell phone charger or my civil procedure syllabus... unless...
I'm considering covering every useful, valuable, or highly losable item I own in bacon grease.
Then I bet those dogs wouldn't just sit and stare.
3 comments:
The scariest thing about Halloween was all that bacon floating around.
Cosmo is really good at finding his own poo in the backyard and scraps of food on the kitchen floor or any other floor, but is useless for finding keys, library books and other things. Dogs these days!
Tell me about it. Jumping around on their pogo balls and zipping recklessly through the mall on their roller skate shoes...
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