That my son and I were in the dining room, looking at something on my computer, with our backs to the dining room table. I had paused in the middle of putting dinner on the table, to chat. And, oh, we just happened to be talking about Buddy.
Bragging on her, really.
About how she was so good with food. Leaving it alone, unless it was expressly hers. So trustworthy with it. So well behaved.
You know where this is going, right?
Because that's when we realized that the good, trustworthy, well behaved doggie had her head in my plate.
Eating my dinner.
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