A few days ago, John brought home Publix Cuban sandwiches for our lunch. What a treat! I cranked up the oven to 4oo and laid the sandwiches open on a pizza pan so the bread would toast and the Swiss cheese melt. Knowing it would take five or so minutes to get the oven up to speed, I left the pan and open sandwiches on the countertop and went into the dining room to continue futzing with the watercolor I was working on.
When I returned to the kitchen, I was puzzled to see a knife on the floor. I'd left it on the counter, ready to spread the mustard on the toasted sandwiches.
But where were the sandwiches? Had I absent mindedly put them in already? Without the pan? I checked the oven. Nope.
They were flat gone. G.O.N.E. No crumbs, nothing out of order but the knife on the floor.JENNY! I shrieked, and a slightly (but only slightly) abashed little hound tiptoed in from the living room.My fault. She has the reach of a young giraffe, and she has taken stuff from the counter or table before, Generally I shove things way back out of her reach. Disappointed doesn't cover the gloom of having a pimento cheese sandwich when your mouth is all watered up for a Cuban. I remain in awe of her ability to consume so much, so quickly and quietly. The Cuban is a big sandwich. And she ate two. She spent the afternoon outside but as far as I could tell, suffered no ill effects from her hurried meal.
In an unrelated incident, on Thursday night the usual suspect went out after supper and didn't return. We got a call around nine from Justin, looking for Otter. Aha! the girls are off on a toot! we said to ourselves.
Justin came up the road, calling for Otter--who returned soon after. But no Jenny. That bad girl stayed gone till five in the morning when John heard her at the door and let her in. She hopped up on the bed and, after a brief hello as I made sure she wasn't bringing ticks with her, she curled up and went to sleep. I'd love to know what she was doing all that time. We didn't hear her howling as she often does; she wasn't dirty or briar covered as she sometimes is.It's a mystery and she's not talking.