Thief

Most Beautiful Dog is not only beautiful. He is a problem solver. From the time he was just a tiny dollup of a pup, you could look in those scintillating amber eyes and tell his little gears were always turning - always putting things together to find a means to some devious end.

As I have comfortably grown into my thirties, making emancipating decisions about what's important and what isn't, I have abandoned the high maintenance hairstyles of my youth. For many years I have simply let my hair grow as it may, wielding arguable control over my locks with a variety of hair accessories.

MB Dog is obsessed with my hair ties. He must love the smell of my hair or something, but he has always confiscated any scrunchie, band, or barrette he could get his mouth around. I have to be sure to put all hair notions away in order to prevent this. Still my hair ties continue to steadily disappear for a few days, only to reappear ... in the back yard.

The Hub's been after me about it, and rightly so. I agree, it's not good for him. It could make him very sick. But I swear, I put that stuff in its designated drawer in my bathroom, and am sure to close the drawer. Always.

The Hub eyeballs me suspiciously at that. I get the feeling he doesn't believe me. But I swear it!

The other morning, I just happened to catch what's going on.

I had gotten myself ready for work and was getting Incrediboy up and at'em. As always, I was careful to close up my hair fixins drawer. As we shared our morning chortles while I changed him into his clothes, I heard a very soft, almost undetectable sliding of tracks in my bathroom. Being that the Hub is out of town this week, I had a sneaking suspicion who was rooting around in there. I made sure Incrediboy was secure and tip toed into the hallway to see what was going on.

There, in my bathroom, stood Most Beautiful Dog. Face buried deep in my hair notion drawer. Apparently, he has figured out that if he takes his lovely, obsidian-nailed, bespeckled paw and places it just so on the drawer handle, he can slide it open and reveal the goodies therein. A virtual bad dog buffet.

Mystery solved. Little sneak.

I said his name in my stern mother voice. He pulled his head out quickly, nonchalantly starting to close the drawer by leaning on it, and gave me the "(Uh-oh ... ) I love you, Mom!" face.

I was bugged, but I couldn't help but crack a grin. What can I say - he's the furry peg of my heart. And how can I not be impressed with his problem solving skills.

Hm, looks like I'll have to get myself some kind of makeup bag to put it all in now as well. Until he figures out how to operate a zipper.