A Regular Dog

I fed Lomax his dinner around 6:30 this evening, then sat for just a moment to check my e-mail while he was chowing down. We do this all the time; he's within earshot, and the moment I hear him licking the bowl, I either call him to me or get up to give him water and take him outside. I knew he was hungry tonight, because he ate unusually quickly. But then there was silence. And that's never good.

"Lomax?"

Nothing. I swiveled around and rose slowly from my chair, brow furrowed, suspicious as the cinematic ingenue about to be eviscerated by the maniac who's supposedly been dead for fifteen years.

"Lomax, are you done? Come here, boy!"

I went to check. Empty bowl, no dog. He must have gone completely stealth to get past me. Then I remembered that I had just spent part of the afternoon trying this new cookie recipe, and the little beauties were cooling on a rack on my kitchen table.

I saw the crime scene from across the living room:



Note the empty lower left corner.

Then I saw the suspect, looking small and guilty:



His mouth was closed, but just in case, I yelled "DROP IT!"

With a subtle "pleh," out dropped two tiny blobs. When I moved toward him to pick up the cookie blobs and make sure he wasn't hiding anything else in his mouth, he tucked his butt underneath him and zipped about six feet down the hallway. But all it took was one stern "Lomax, COME," and he was back at my side, head slightly lowered but tongue-out and body wiggling and wagging as if he hadn't seen me in six months.

What could I do but laugh?

The cookies are actually very good, and kind of healthy (for humans, at least). The recipe came off a box of this cereal, which boasts ten grams of dietary fiber per serving. Lucky me! Also included in the power-packed, colon-blowing treats? Some oatmeal, and some dried fruit.

I'll, uh...let you know how it all comes out. But he'll be sleeping in his crate tonight, with the door closed, to be sure.