The Proof is in the Pizzle
This morning I did the usual, stumbled from bed to feed the dogs. Life is very interesting living with two senior dogs and one head strong service dog. OH, and the cat, too. But I digress.
I fed the dogs, then went to brew a k cup. While I was in the kitchen, I heard a crash. I walked into the office and found the shopping bag with the humane society donations on the floor, its contents scattered. I scooped it up, then noticed the bag of discarded Pizzle sticks I didn’t want my dogs to eat ripped open. I was not happy with how they made soft stool for the dogs and decided to give them to the kennel instead.
My first thought was that Bailey, my service dog took initiative and got into the bag. I went into his crate, and after some rooting around under his paws, found a small Pizzle. I put it back in the bag and as I turned to go, heard the unmistakable sound of another dog knowing on a Pizzle. I went over to the ginormous dog bed (yes, Irish Wolfhound size) and found my elderly yet spunky beagle mix, Nikka, grasping the biggest Pizzle in her little paws chewing it like a canine lollipop. I took it away, trying not to laugh as she gave me a little lip for my trouble. then I was struck with the thought that since she had the biggest one, she must have been the thief and Bailey, bless his heart, just joined in the fun. If he had been the thief, wouldn’t he have picked the biggest Pizzle? One can only hope.