Yesterday, after posting the entry in which I lamented the fact that my pie was a big ol’ fail, I received an email from Owen:
If it’s any consolation, Nacho loved the pie…
Just who, pray tell, is Nacho?
Yup.
The email continued:
I nearly killed him. When I woke up yesterday (at the crack of dawn) I found what looked like a murder scene on the kitchen floor, and Nacho had a red beard. A somewhat fitting, albeit depressing end.
Yes, Nacho the giant Labradoodle took down the rest of the pie. Which is not surprising. On Sunday I did have to say after dinner, “Guys, FYI, there is a chicken on your floor.”
If only there were pictures! But I probably wouldn’t be taking snapshots if that happened to me, either. And I am so happy that didn’t happen to me. Can you imagine? Mop & Glo for weeks.
I <3 Nacho.
I’ll be sure to pass that along. LOL.
Love it. Our hound now long decease, used to specialise in this behaviour. Cute but frustrating to see a tiny Jack Russell running around with a pizza in its mouth, wrapped over its head.
I am now trying to imagine a small terrier getting up onto the counter. Smart dog.
Floor, chair, counter.