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Yesterday afternoon, I was sitting at my desk, typing away, when I heard an odd rustling sound coming from the living room.

I paused, fingers poised over the keyboard. “What are you two doing in there?” I called out.

I didn’t really expect an answer, as the dogs don’t speak. But neither one of them came trotting into my office, which made me suspicious. When pugs skulk away, it usually means something BAD is going on.

And it was.

My two small dogs had managed to:

(a) Open a closed kitchen cupboard,

(b) Drag a heavy bag of dog food out of the cupboard and into the living room, and

(c) Rip open and devour the contents of the bag (which contained several weeks worth of food).

They were now lying under the coffee table with identical bulging stomachs.

“You are BAD DOGS,” I told them sternly.

They looked at me unrepentantly.

“You’re going to regret this later,” I warned them. “You’re both going to have terrible tummy aches.”

And they did . . . at 5 a.m. They proceeded to howl and bark until I dragged my ass out of bed, hooked on their leashes and took them out to empty their bowels, all the while hoping none of the neighbors would up early enough to see me out in my jammies.

Damn dogs.

Posted 16 May 2008 at 09:11 AM