Will I ever learn?

That's what I fully expected my husband say to me after reading my confession in this post. Unfortunately, I didn't even have to wait that long, because Gary discovered the evidence of my most heinous of crimes yesterday, before I had a chance to explain or apologize. Both attempts at which would be futile against the fact that I was foolishly negligent. Again.

Yesterday Gary brought an important item I had forgotten to me at work on his way to pick up Madelyn from Grandma's house. When I approached him in the parking lot, he apologized for being late and said he would have arrived sooner except that he had to clean up some nasty piles of dog vomit on the carpet downstairs. He did not immediately suspect that I knew precisely the cause of this catastrophe, but my guilty expression led swiftly to that conclusion.

You see, earlier that morning I noticed a tiny piece of cellophane wrapper on the stairs. We don't just live in a house full of garbage, so I picked it up, and recognition immediately sunk in. The piece of wrapper belonged to a the package of Clif ShotBloks I had only partially consumed on my 11-mile run Sunday morning. I conjectured then that I had left the open package in a pocket of my CamelBak on the floor of my office all day Sunday.

Only one logical reason exists for the wee bit of wrapper to be on the stairs:

Kezia. (It rhymes with 'amnesia')

She might look innocent, but it's all a ruse. This girl is a dumpster-diver through and through. She'll find a plastic baggie with crumbs at the bottom of a trash can and take it out to her dog run to mutilate until every molecule of cracker has been consumed. It's not just food, either. She has an affinity for crinkly plastic things even without edibles inside. More than a few items of mine have been ruined or scarred by this dog's teeth. Thankfully nothing irreplaceable. Yet.

I was immediately angry that she had stolen away with my energy goos, which translates into being upset with myself for leaving them on the floor or forgetting to close my door, which is usually easier for me than remembering to put all Kezia-tempting items out of reach, or guessing which items those might be any given day.

My mind then starting racing toward other frightening possibilities. Would two-thirds of a product designed to give athletes several hours'worth of energy from a variety of sugar sources harm my little pup? And what about the other two unopened packages that I now remembered were located nearby--had Kezia discovered them too?

I reluctantly went to my office to investigate, a little worried about what I might find. The Camelbak pocket was unzipped and empty. The bag in which I was fairly sure I had left the other two varieties of energy chews now contained none. There was no evidence of foul play--only the missing commodities gave her away.

I have to admit I was at that moment more upset about the waste than I was concerned about Kezia's health. I didn't think it would kill her or anything, and my 'running candy' isn't cheap at $2.00 per package. If Kezia ate all the chews that I had just purchased in preparation for next week's half marathon, I considered it 6 bucks down the pooper. Literally. And I had been really excited to try this new kind I found:

I forced myself to go out into our dog run, which is really one giant toilet, and smells like it too. If I wanted to confirm my suspicions, I knew the proof would be there. I did not notice any unusual excrement; I supposed it would be gooey and some fabulous variation of Cran-Razz or Black Cherry in hue. But I did find shreds of uneaten evidence: lots of little pieces of wrapper without a trace of electrolyte-balancing gummies to be found.

As this was not the first of similar incidents caused by my carelessness, I knew to expect disapproval from Gary. I hoped that discovering the mess and cleaning it up myself might soften his irritation. But it wasn't hard to see that all the scraps I gathered were not equivalent to 3 full package wrappers in sum. And there was nothing left on the ground.

Which meant, of course, that portions of the wrappers had very likely been consumed by my mischievous husky.

I made a full report to Gary, and together we speculated that the indigestible plastic caused the vomiting, as what he found on the carpet was not red and gooey. I apologized profusely, and accepted my deserved lecture about leaving these things within reach of dogs and kids.

For curiosity's sake, I wish I could have seen Kezia in those first hours after consuming her Energy Gel Blasts and Shot Bloks. Did all that sugar affect her behavior? Was she ill shortly afterward? And also, did she share some with her similarly naughty brother Loki, or was he merely an innocent bystander?