We had a pretty eventful weekend. There was a scrap retreat to attend (thanks Deb & Jane!), a bachelor party for my brother, some visiting with my mom, and some cleaning around the house.
We did the "big toy clean-out" yesterday. You know, the one where you tell your kids that if they don't make room and either give away or throw away approximately 2/3 of their toys, Santa will drive right by because he will see that they already have plenty? Yeah, that one. The not-so-subtle manipulation, it was in prime form yesterday. To include a second sort-through of the keeper pile. We were relentless. Grandmas, if you're listening, my boys do not need anymore stuffed animals - and neither does Goodwill.
The constant disarray of the house all afternoon, paired with the constant temptation for our kleptomaniac canine companion (aka Klepto-Dog) to steal anything not bolted down, resulted in Jake's demotion to "outside dog" for the day. His pathetic face gazing through the windows at our obvious toy-sorting joy was a sight to behold. He lived for the garbage runs, when the "throw away" bin would finally be too full, and Jake would have a brief moment of togetherness with whomever took the bag out.
I think his psyche took a bit of a beating, and may have interrupted the mental processes of his otherwise very intelligent brain.
As the boys finished up the re-organizing of the toy area, Matt was busy cleaning out the grill and dutch oven from our last camping trip. Yes, it's been two weeks. Yes, I've seen grosser things than a dutch oven that sat for two weeks - I just can't recall any at the moment. Grossness that led to the decision that we must sterilize said dutch oven, in a prolonged high-heat environment.
Our choice - the BBQ.
Unfortunately, the BBQ is where we store the cat food. Remember Klepto-Dog? Yeah, that's why.
In a moment of hazy mental clarity, Matt chose to set the cat food on the shelf beside the BBQ. He apparently didn't remember throwing away 7 or 78 toys that Klepto-Dog had rendered useless, nor did he remember Klepto-Dog's penchant for cat food. I'm going to approximate that it was nearing 6:00 pm.
At about 7:00 or 7:30, I went outside to feed said cats. No cat food. You guessed it, Klepto-Dog. Although, he was "smart enough" to be nowhere in the vicinity.
We finished up with showers, tubbies, and getting the boys to bed. We folded a few loads of laundry. And then I remembered I had not yet emptied the car from my scrapbook retreat. The car is one full story below our main level. My crafty room is one full story above our main level. That would make two levels which a few boxes of crafty stuff must be carried up. It was an easy thing to procrastinate.
Jake was noticeably absent during the trips up and down the stairs. I thought it was odd, due to his lack of attention throughout the afternoon. But, I quickly reasoned he was still feeling guilty about the cat food, and didn't think much more of it.
Until about 10:30.
We're getting ready to go to bed, and we still haven't seen Jake since the cat food incident. I call for him to come in, but no luck. I wait a couple minutes, thinking he is out in the far reaches of the pasture, and just needs some time to make it to the door. I call again. No luck.
Matt heads outside to make sure he isn't locked in the shop for some reason. Again, no luck.
He comes back in and puts jeans and boots back on, ready to go scour the ditches and roads near our house.
About 10 minutes later, he comes in the back door. "Honey, you need to come here." I couldn't really read his tone, and I was expecting the worst. I'm in my jammies. "Do I need to get dressed?" I breathed a sigh of relief. "No, just come here."
And this is what we saw . . .
What a dork.
To give Matt his deserved props, after I asked him what he did with the cat food in the BBQ, and we figured out he had left it in a vulnerable state, he jokingly said, "I bet Jake's already stuck somewhere and can't get that thing off his head."
Because this may have happened once before with a bucket. And my dog's long-term memory must not be hitting on all cylinders. I'm sure he's got it all figured out now, though. I bet we could leave that cat food bag right in front of his dish and he'd be smart enough to leave it along. 5 hours with a bag on your head will do that to ya. Or not.