The Cupcake

 Each morning Mack and I spend some quality time in the kitchen before the rest of the house is astir. In weather as cold as this he can't go out to his run, and it is risky to leave him unobserved, so when I can't be with him he is crated. When I can be in the kitchen though, we have good times, and in warm weather he can be out a lot.

Today I chanced leaving him alone while I fed the birds. It takes only a tiny amount of time...I can get them fed before the microwave is finished with my coffee and I only heat that for two minutes.

When I got back in today, all seemed well. No shredded plastic bags found under something in the pantry. No stolen Peggy lunchbox. No socks, shoes, bottle caps, knives or other miscellany lying around half destroyed. Considering that he is a Jack Russell Terrier that is pretty darned good. I was happy.

Until a couple of hours later when the boss and I were heading out to chase a few birds and run a couple of errands. 

There was a smear of something dark on the table. Hot button with me. Certain individuals like to construct sammiches there without benefit of plates. It's a nice table my next younger brother built, beautiful reddish blonde butcher block style and I love it. No sammiches should ever touch its silky surface.

However, the boss swore he hadn't done the dastardly deed...and then I remembered....

The cupcake!

Seems we folks of the feminine persuasion attended a shower the other day. We brought home some chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting. I ate mine on the way home, and Becky had hers. There was just one left and  it had been on the table the night before in all its glory.

It was gone.

Of course it was gone...wrapper and all.

Now, I could of course have rushed my little guy to the vet for charcoal and supportive therapy etc. However, I decided to watch him for symptoms and hope that he was okay. I've had dogs steal chocolate before with never any sign of ill effects.

However, I watched that dog like a hawk all day. He had more walkies and playtime and hugs and cuddles than he could believe he was getting. Almost wagged his stubby little tail off. Every time we had to leave, I rushed in to check him and give him some attention the minute we got back.

He seemed completely fine, but still I worried. We got back from Sprout Brook this afternoon, and I noticed LIz had his crate covered...he hates Ren and barks incessantly if he can see her.

I asked how he was. 

She said, "He's fine, just as much of a jerk as ever. All he does is bark.

    Why?"

So I told her about the cupcake.

"Oh, Mom, Peggy and I ate the cupcake last night. We shared it."

Of course they did.

Cupcakes?
Who said cupcakes?