Mom had four dark bananas, and she made an outstanding Banana Bread. How do I know this?
To start with, I spent a great deal of time sniffing around in the kitchen. Ahhhh! Nothing like the sweet smell of a baking banana bread. Mom opened the oven door, and took my quarry, er – the banana bread – out, and set it on a rack to cool.
Patiently, I waited, biding my time until Mom took the bread out of the pan and gave everyone (except for me) a slice. Mom then went upstairs for a bath, and left Dad in charge. That was the break I’d been waiting for!
Dad sat on the couch, “rocking his groove”, with one eye on the TV and the other on his tablet video game. I quietly sneaked into the kitchen, leaped up on my powerful hind legs, floated like a butterfly in mid-air, craned out my neck, and snatched the loaf of banana bread right off the cutting board. It was set back from the counter, but I can stretch my neck like a giraffe if I want to. I devoured a fourth of it, and left the sad, half-chewed remainder of the bread on the ground for a snack to be had, later.
I should mention that, at Jamie’s insistence, Dad bought me one of those super-soft, fleecy blankets, just like the one Laurel gave to Mom for Christmas. After gorging myself on the still-warm banana bread, I returned to the living room, stretched out on my soft new blankie, and fell asleep at Dad’s feet with a big smile on my face. Dad knew nothing of the incident.
I would have gotten away with it, too, had I gone ahead and eaten the last of the loaf. But as I was napping, Mom came downstairs from her bath and quickly surveyed the situation, summing it up with, “Jim! This is what happens when I leave you in charge for 20 minutes!” Fuming, she cleared away the mess and spent the rest of the night monitoring me for a tummy ache.
Oh! I’m so good when I’m bad!
Woof! Love, Maggie