Recidivist

Hugo didn't move to greet me when I came down this morning and I soon realised why: his bed was littered with detritus from the larder including an empty box of crackers, an empty marzipan wrapper left over from the Christmas cake, and a tin of sardines. On the floor beside it were another tin of sardines, a box of eggs, a packet of paracetamol, a spilled box of herbes de Provence that went into yesterday's casserole, and a torn raisin packet. Only the tins, the pills, the herbs and the box of eggs had been left intact. A large lump of marzipan, a good quantity of raisins and several dry crackers had been consumed. I gasped in shock and stared at him with my mouth open. How had this happened again? I made him climb down off his sofa and sit on the floor to look at me. When I could speak I said quietly, "You're a very bad boy." He kept looking up to meet my eyes and then casting his head down again. He looked so sweet, but I wasn't ready to forgive him yet. I got him to sit on the doormat while I ate my breakfast, and he shifted around uncomfortably until I relented. I fed him though I didn't know whether to or not, and it all disappeared. He drank a lot of water too. We walked as usual, and then again when Ruth was here for lunch. A full six hours after I came downstairs this morning he was finally sick, on the kitchen rug. Ruth popped him outside while I started to clean the mess, and before long he'd been sick again, twice and hugely. Oh Hugo, poor little boy. He had taken advantage of a slightly open larder door to get inside and eat what he could reach. My fault of course. I brought him indoors again and cuddled him. "He's doing that face again," said Ruth, and she modelled two thumbs up and a smug, satisfied look. "He's just saying, hah, see what I can get away with". I looked at the two piles on the grass, and one was an untouched heap of raisins, completely unprocessed. The rest was presumably the marzipan, the biscuits and his breakfast. But it never really matters wht he does, I find him completely adorable and irresistible. Despite his mischief he's the best dog in the world.

I've been bad, so I'll pretend to be asleep