I am a good dog. I am a very good dog.
I can usually resist the allure of human food. Well, you know….except for ham. Or chicken parts.
But I am a very good dog! Even though sometimes I quietly linger around the kitchen when my Mistress is cooking a chicken carcass for soup, I would never, ever stoop so low as to steal human food.
I am an incredibly good dog.
The trash may smell delicious and filled with chickeny goodness, but I would never dive in there to get a treat.
The Boy was home. The happy, smily, rubs-my-belly boy was home last night! He slept at our house, and I greeted him with squeals of joy and delight.
I really love him.
I followed him around last night, before retiring to the bedroom where my Master and Mistress sleep. I love our boy, but I know my duty. I curled up next to the Mistress, but I could hear the boy breathing.
I love him.
See, after the Master and Mistress went to work this morning, the boy-who-loves-me-so got up and made himself some breakfast.
Dear god. There was bacon.
He poured the grease onto a napkin, and then put the napkin into the trash. I knew what he intended to tell me when he did these things. He meant to say, “Sure, there’s plenty of bacon fat here for a good dog like you.”
I am an obedient dog. I listen to my humans when they tell me things. I follow instructions.
So this afternoon, after the wonderful boy threw all the bacon goodness into the trash and headed out, I knew what I had to do.
I followed orders, as any dedicated good dog would do.
A few hours went by. I was lying on the couch, sleeping off my bacon induced coma. The day was fading, and the Beautiful Dope was getting restless.
He gets hungry, because he doesn’t know enough to follow implied orders.
He did not chew on any bacon-fat-soaked-napkins. His whiskers were not greasy and fulfilled.
I lifted my head, and realized that the Mistress would be home soon. I licked my lips and chin, tasting the porky delight. “Aahhh, what a lovely day!”, I thought to myself.
And then I heard the garage door opening. Mistress….greasy papers on floor…..smears of grossness on furniture…..
I lifted my head, all thoughts of the generous and loving Boy chased away. “Oh, no!”, I thought. “I have raided the trash! I have tossed chewed up paper all around the living room!”
I did what I had to do.
As the sound of the slowly rising garage door filled my ears, I dropped to my belly. I thought quickly. Where could I find the most humbling, depressing, apologetic place in the house?
With a sigh, I stuffed myself behind the oil burner, where the dirt and dust had collected for years, and where I could abase myself in the eyes of my Mistress.
I closed my eyes. Yet even as I hoped that she would ignore me, the taste of salty mapley bacon filled my mouth.
“Sadie?” I heard her call. “Where are you, pretty girl?”
I crawled from behind the furnace, making sure that my belly scraped the floor the whole way. When I got to the feet of my Mistress, I rolled onto my back, lifting my paws into the air.
My Mistress is nobody’s fool. “Oh, crap”, she said as she eyed my efforts to show my subservience. “Sadie……You ate some bacon today, didn’t you?”
What can I say?
I am a very, very good dog. But bacon…….well, all bets are off where bacon is concerned.