Hokay - back when I was closer to being in single digits, my father's brilliant baker of a sister and her husband moved down from the cold to North Miami (both sides are from Massachusetts, where people get tired of winter). We used to visit on Sundays or such; despite the possibilities of banana cream pie or other goodies, I frequently objected out of anticipated boredom. Y'know, kid. [shrug]
Anyway, we'd got a pair of Weimeraner sisters. Ma'd always been fascinated with their elegant look, and Da had tracked down a litter. As was our habit with puppies, they were restrained in the newspaper-covered kitchen until housebroken. They were old enough to be left by themselves, of course, when we went to Aunt Harriot's that one day. Da also used to get tins of Danish butter cookies/sweet biscuits — you must know the kind, in a really substantially-heavy tin, little sweet 'pretzels' and piped-star circles, with the chunky sugar that crunches when you eat them?
Said tin, as yet unopened and therefore sealed with tape, was left on a kitchen counter. Now, these girlpuppies were probably only a little taller at the shoulder than Sirius is (in the photos above) at the time of this story. Smallish puppies, average kitchen counter. Insert ominous music here.
Off to visit, eat, be bored or not, and back after... oh, what, three hours? Maybe more? Kidscaled time, I don't remember. We get inside, anticipating having to roll up used newspaper, that's to be expected. What we did NOT expect was to find that biscuit tin... on the floor... empty. Covered with teeth marks fang holes. And not a single drop of blood anywhere on the tin, the floor, or in the puppies' mouths.
I wish we'd kept that tin, just for the awe factor.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-06-02 12:32 pm (UTC)Anyway, we'd got a pair of Weimeraner sisters. Ma'd always been fascinated with their elegant look, and Da had tracked down a litter. As was our habit with puppies, they were restrained in the newspaper-covered kitchen until housebroken. They were old enough to be left by themselves, of course, when we went to Aunt Harriot's that one day. Da also used to get tins of Danish butter cookies/sweet biscuits — you must know the kind, in a really substantially-heavy tin, little sweet 'pretzels' and piped-star circles, with the chunky sugar that crunches when you eat them?
Said tin, as yet unopened and therefore sealed with tape, was left on a kitchen counter. Now, these girlpuppies were probably only a little taller at the shoulder than Sirius is (in the photos above) at the time of this story. Smallish puppies, average kitchen counter. Insert ominous music here.
Off to visit, eat, be bored or not, and back after... oh, what, three hours? Maybe more? Kidscaled time, I don't remember. We get inside, anticipating having to roll up used newspaper, that's to be expected. What we did NOT expect was to find that biscuit tin... on the floor... empty. Covered with
teeth marksfang holes. And not a single drop of blood anywhere on the tin, the floor, or in the puppies' mouths.I wish we'd kept that tin, just for the awe factor.