So I'm sitting minding my own business watching TV and crocheting and I hear some noises from the kitchen. Missy is not on her bed, but it doesn't sound like her eating. Must investigate.
So I tiptoe over to the kitchen and voilá! A headless Malamute. Or rather, a dog stuffed up to the shoulders in the supposedly dog-proof treats container.
She delicately extracts a large bone-shaped cookie, takes it to her bed and insouciantly proceeds to demolish it before my admiring eyes. Censorious eyes. Ahem.
A while later, I'm sitting at the computer minding my own business doing Facebook when I hear the sliding glass door quietly slide open. Missy is not on her bed. Sigh.
Yes, indeed, the old girl has gone on walkabout to visit Fernando the foster boy in his pen and lead me a merry chase before she sashays back into the house, big brown eyes alight.
When did the Miss get so sneaky?
I merely do not tromp. Sneaky indeed -- Missy out
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