Barf

Last week, my brother and sister in law came to the house to celebrate her birthday and my Dad's birthday over dinner. They brought along their dog, Lucy, so it was quite a pupfest with all the four legged creatures wandering around, sniffing at the low coffee table, and wrestling beneath out feet and chairs.

We managed to keep the dogs corralled together for the evening, but at the end of the meal, Oliver walked into the dining room and threw-up a nice pile of mystery something-or-other on the rug in the butler's pantry, in plain view of all to see. I looked at it, trying to identify the contents without making a scene right next to the dinner table. It was all white and looked like chunks of potato. Weird. I cleaned it up and we went on with out evening.

After my brother and sister in law left with their pooch, Dad and I were cleaning up when we got to the living room. All of the cheese that remained on the coffee table after appetizers was now gone. Ah-ha! The sound of the living room doors shutting which I took note of earlier in the dinner, was in fact, the sound of the doors being opened (for whatever reason). Oliver had hoovered-up a good sized chunk of brie, Gouda and Cheddar. And then redelivered it to the dining room. How thoughtful.