We were coming home from church, and as we pulled up in the driveway, Stas noticed that our dog was looking at us through the window.
My dog is crate trained, so normally when we go out, he is in his crate. The fact that he was now staring at us through the window meant that he had free roam of the house for the past two hours.
This is a problem, because he has made a habit of chewing up slippers and shoes while we are out.
"Dad!" Stas called, "Look, Kovu is out!"
"Oh no, did everyone remember to shut their doors before we left?"
Both children had. Victoria had not.
She is staring ahead and says quietly: "If he has chewed up my shoes, probably I will kill him..."
There is a pause while she considers what she said... and then she softens it, slightly:
"No, probably I will not kill him... But he will be on a diet..."
Yikes! A fate worse than death! Cut off from the kitchen, and lost to the chef's affections???
Happily, the dog had chosen this day to be good, so he did not lose kitchen privileges.
(As I type this he is finishing a waffle that she left for him -- with syrup, of course. You wouldn't give a dog a DRY waffle, would you???)
