Midnight snacking
Mar. 3rd, 2011 12:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quidamlingOk, so I am mooching back at the parentals while on the job hunt. Part of keeping sanity is staying up late enough to have the house seem to be just me. Now, to be nice, I hide downstairs in the mancave so the light doesn't keep the rest of the house up. I wrangle the doggies with me during the evening, then go upstairs to brush my teeth and go to bed with my herd.
One of the dogs, likes to midnight snack. Or really, just snack whenever he damn well pleases. It got to the point where he learned to open the cupboard where we keep the dogfood, and he could be nine whole pounds of unholy growling wrath if we caught him. He'd never actually bite, but he puts on a hell of a show like he's going to take your arm off.
We needed a way to lock the cupboards. Dad refused to put baby locks on anything without actual grandkids. (Sorry dad, considering I'm single and well, the hot factor of living at home ain't helping my case. So the youngest, you know, the one with a fiance, he's the furthest down that road...) Instead, some of those baby toys (you know, the little linky plastic chain thingies?) somehow, to dad, is utterly legit. IDEK.
Last night, I am brushing my teeth, hear little doggy claws on kitchen tile, and hear the scruffle of plastic. Now, I swear that the cupboard was locked, but I go to check.
Yes, the cupboard is locked.
No, that has not stopped the dog from finding a midnight snack.
We had some extra food that didn't fit in the cupboard sitting on the kitchen stool until we had made the space. It didn't seem like high priority to keep it from the dogs.
Live and learn.
So I try to take it back from him, and he growls, picks up his prize, and skitters down the hall to his crate.
I. AM. DYING!
Sadly, I couldn't catch him fleeing with his spoils, but I did get photo evidence of him attempting to chow down.
Before I took the loaf of bread back to the kitchen and laughed till my eyes watered.
I could not make this shit up. ♥
One of the dogs, likes to midnight snack. Or really, just snack whenever he damn well pleases. It got to the point where he learned to open the cupboard where we keep the dogfood, and he could be nine whole pounds of unholy growling wrath if we caught him. He'd never actually bite, but he puts on a hell of a show like he's going to take your arm off.
We needed a way to lock the cupboards. Dad refused to put baby locks on anything without actual grandkids. (Sorry dad, considering I'm single and well, the hot factor of living at home ain't helping my case. So the youngest, you know, the one with a fiance, he's the furthest down that road...) Instead, some of those baby toys (you know, the little linky plastic chain thingies?) somehow, to dad, is utterly legit. IDEK.
Last night, I am brushing my teeth, hear little doggy claws on kitchen tile, and hear the scruffle of plastic. Now, I swear that the cupboard was locked, but I go to check.
Yes, the cupboard is locked.
No, that has not stopped the dog from finding a midnight snack.
We had some extra food that didn't fit in the cupboard sitting on the kitchen stool until we had made the space. It didn't seem like high priority to keep it from the dogs.
Live and learn.
So I try to take it back from him, and he growls, picks up his prize, and skitters down the hall to his crate.
I. AM. DYING!
Sadly, I couldn't catch him fleeing with his spoils, but I did get photo evidence of him attempting to chow down.
Before I took the loaf of bread back to the kitchen and laughed till my eyes watered.
I could not make this shit up. ♥
no subject
Date: 2011-03-03 06:40 am (UTC)we had this cat. huge black tomcat named Corax. (wonderful cat, unless he didn't like you. then he was a demon who used your possessions as a litterbox. i digress) he was a street cat when we rescued him and as a result would eat anything. and he had a thing for pork chops. and my ex-husband also had a thing for pork chops and a habit of leaving his plates of food on the floor to run into a different room for things. cats are opportunists, you know, and i probably cleaned forty or fifty pork chop bones out from under the bed when i moved out.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-03 06:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-03 06:49 am (UTC)this same cat also stole a taco out of my hand and ate my ex-roommates's onion rings during a D&D session. he was a crazy cat. i miss him.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-03 06:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-03 07:13 am (UTC)