My little dog Jack gets the blame for everything that goes wrong around here. From pooping on the trunk of a 1980 Oldsmobile Toronado, to eating solar lights, to pooping on the pool deck, to knocking a large Amazon box out of the back of the Gator, to pooping in the closed garage... Huh. Jack gets a lot of blame for pooping, but he has NEVER pooped anywhere but the woods where all our dogs have done their business.
Sure, maybe Jack DID have that little lapse in judgment when he ate 1/3 of Genius's intended Christmas gift of a monogrammed bison leather wallet from Sharper Image with RFID chip. But he's not that bad.
When I rounded the corner of the house on my way to town Friday, I spotted something on the porch.
What in the Not Heaven was that? A closer look revealed it to be BOWLS.
Stacked metal bowls, wrapped in plastic. I'd never seen them before. They were apparently new. And now on my porch. As I stood there looking, talking to myself about where they might have come from, I was joined by my Sweet, Sweet Juno. A minute later, Jack ran around from the side of the garage to join us.
OH MY GOSH! I looked up from checking my phone to see if I had a blogworthy picture, and caught Juno PICKING UP A BOWL!
Well! That is not allowed! She has a whole dog house full of hoarded items, including a small antler rack from a deer. And all the toys we ever bought Jack. She didn't need something shiny! I started to scold her.
"NO! Juno! NO! Bring that back! Come here!"
I'm sure all she heard was JUNO and WAH WAH WAH. And maybe NO. Yet she insolently kept walking away with a stolen bowl in her mouth. I'm pretty sure she's a Lab and Border Collie mix. The Labs the neighbors have had were always picking up resin bunnies and other yard ornaments and carrying them home, and if I tossed a loaf of bread off the porch, they could put four slices in a stack before making off with the loot.
Jack's demeanor changed from joy at seeing me, to protective mode. Nobody messes with Jack's stuff. Including his human momma. He stood between me and Juno. Looking from one to the other. Juno was NOT giving up her treasure. She walked down the steps. I thought she was going down the sidewalk and out in the yard, but she stopped at the bottom of the steps.
Jack ran from me to the top of the steps. He did the little hopping run that he uses when he's ticked-off. He was on alert, ready to start barking at Juno any minute, like he does to chase off Copper Jack when he doesn't want to share me. The only thing that kept him from barking and charging at Juno, I think, was his realization that Juno is Top Dog.
With both of us advancing on her, Juno dropped the bowl, and ran up on the side porch, where Jack shouldered her away from me. No petting for the wicked! I put the bowls on the garden shelf where the cat kibble used to rest in the roasting pan, until we cut off the squirrels' supply.
Saturday night, I asked Hick about the metal bowls.
"Oh. I found them in the storage unit stuff. Them squirrels must have knocked them off the grill. That's where I stacked them."
"I put them on the shelf by the garage, so the dogs didn't get them."
"Yeah. That Jack is into everything!"
"Uh. You need to quit blaming my little Jack for everything. Look at this picture!"
"Yeah. Look at him. He's right there, getting ready to get those bowls."
"Nooo... look behind him!"
There she is, caught red-mouthed! The closeup doesn't lie! And she's not even sorry! It's like she's DARING me to come get it!
Hick was not about to switch the blame from Jack to my Sweet, Sweet Juno. He launched into another story about Jack stealing stuff. ALLEGEDLY.
Maybe more on that another day.