Dinner for One

He did it again. Waldo, the wonder dog, one-upped us.

This time, we were headed on our long road trip south. After putting in ten hours of driving, and with dusk coming on, we pulled off to check in at a motel and get a bite to eat.

One thing you should know about Waldo -- his nerves get pretty shot on car trips. Although he's good as gold in the car, I'd bet dollars to doughnuts that he suspects we're going to leave him somewhere and his little life will suddenly fall apart. And so, of course, he refuses to eat for the three days it takes us to reach our destination. Somehow he manages that time on a few laps of water and the crust of our sandwiches.

Which brings me to the sandwiches. I always pack a couple of days worth of peanut butter sandwiches into our zippered, insulated tote bag, along with a few cans of Coke and some bottles of water. That way we don't have to stop for lunch along the way.

At day's end, George pulled the car up to the front door of the restaurant. This gives Waldo a bird's eye view of us and where we went. He normally watches the door like a hawk waiting to spot us coming out exactly where we went in. Usually, we find him sitting in the driver's seat, peering over the steering wheel.

But this time was different. He wasn't visible through the windshield.

We opened the car door to see a sheepish-looking dog with bread crumbs in his whiskers, down on the floor in the backseat. He hung his head. His eyes drooped. He knew he was in trouble.

The zipper on the lunch bag was neatly pulled back. Not a tooth mark to be found. There was Saran wrap on the floor, a little mangled, but still intact. The sandwiches had disappeared.

Doggone it.

1 comment:

Jean Sheppard said...

Waldo clearly has hidden talents--such surgical precision. And he's really cute to boot!