Cloudy With A Chance Of Storm

My forecast for life. Be ready to jump in puddles.

The dog ate your gift

Growing up with cats, I never got to use the line, “my dog ate my homework.”
This week, I came close. “The dog ate your Christmas goodies” is exactly what I said.
It wasn’t my dog Maddy, of course, because she has no teeth and is vertically challenged.
All those things belong to Jessie, the hulk of a Golden Retriever we were watching this week. It was our fault really. We had securely wrapped the plates of mini bundt cakes and put them in the middle of the kitchen table. Sort of forgot about them after that.
Upon our arrival home from errands, The Bus declared, “wait a minute.” And there is was — in the corner, a few pieces of knocked over papers, some empty paper plates, and bits of saran wrap. All six mini cakes were gone. Jessie was taking a nap and we were left wondering if dogs get drunk easily.
It was a whiskey cake, a rum cake and a cranberry Galliano cake.
Both dogs are fine, btw.

Jessie the cake thief

Maddy got no cake.

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