*published December 21, 2006
Christmas time holds new possibilities for unauthorized dog treats. For example, a few years ago, I was given a decorative tin shaped like an old-fashioned pie wagon containing Reese’s cups. Every year, I refill the tin and place it on the sofa table for family and friends. This morning, I found it, unopened and dented, on the floor, clearly a victim of a toothy hit-and-run.
I’ve mentioned in a previous column that Mikey is a Corgi, which means he is shaped like an overturned fire hydrant. His legs are so short that if he stands up on the couch, he can’t reach over the back cushions to get to anything on the table. Stretching and jumping are also out of the question. Those legs are just too stubby and the body too heavy to get airborne.
Picking up the mess, I had a mental picture of my stumpy dog hurling his body repeatedly over the cushions until he knocked the tin truck onto the floor, then tirelessly chewing the lid in an attempt to open it and indulge in the chocolate-y goodness inside.
It’s a good thing he doesn’t have thumbs.
Mikey isn’t the first dog in my house to have a bottomless stomach and a creative mind. I once had a terrier-mix named Tyler who was both ingenious and obsessive. That dog could find a way into anything edible. Over the 15 years that I owned him, he ate a bag of Oreo cookies, a box of Grape Nuts cereal (without milk!), numerous sandwiches, snacks, and more. When I tried to put him on a diet, he learned to open the pantry.
Christmas was always a challenge with Tyler. I had to ask if every gift was a food item before I put it under the tree. I forgot one time when the neighbors gave me a pretty package. The next morning, I discovered that they had given me a decorative can of Hershey’s Kisses, all of which were gone. They tell you that chocolate is bad for dogs, but Tyler never got that memo.
Then there was the Christmas that I bought some friends a tin of flavored popcorn. Figuring that the popcorn inside was sealed, the tin was sealed, and the whole thing was wrapped in paper, I left it under the tree. The next morning, paper was strewn around the living room like confetti and the can was on its side in the middle of the floor. There were pointy dents around the lid, the mark of my determined pooch. Fortunately, none of the dents broke into the tin and my friends had a good sense of humor.
So, after a life spent with greedy dogs, I know how to handle Mikey’s midnight cravings. The Reese’s are now on a shelf, away from the sofa and too high for little legs to jump. Because I think Santa Chaos needs to visit someone else for a change.