the sting, or, where did those muffins go?

reader, the baron wants you to know that her dogs are well-behaved. and she wants you to know that she loves them, mostly.

but.

there are some days when the baron's dogs do not seem deserving of love. sometimes, the dogs are jerks, little ones, and sometimes they're BIG ONES.

for example.

last week the baron, happy that the cooler weather made using the oven acceptable, decided to turn 3 rather-past-their-prime bananas into 12 banana muffins. she did this on tuesday evening, and left the muffins on the kitchen island to cool.

wenesday morning, being in rather a rush, the baron didn't bother to bag and refrigerate the muffins. she had done this before, had baked something then left it out IN PLAIN SIGHT to cool.

wednesday noontime, the baron came home for lunch. she disabled the alarm, let the dogs out, exchanged her high heels for house slippers, and made her way to the kitchen for food... when she saw three muffins left on the cooling rack.

just three.

she called the husband.
the baron: how many muffins did you take to work today?
the husband: uh, none.
the baron: none!
the husband: yes, none.
the baron: NONE! there are only three left.
the husband:...
the baron: i know who did this.

the baron did know the name of the responsible, muffin-stealing party. but. what if it wasn't the dog she had in mind? what if was the other one? (the two smallest ones, being on the short side, couldn't have reached the counter top.)

so.

the baron, over her faux-chicken lunch, took stock of the dogs and their collective lifestyle. she thought about how the baron and the husband had begun closing the bedroom and office door when they left the house, making small adjustments to account for the dogs' bad behavior. in the bedroom, the dogs would get up onto the bed, and in the office, they'd get into the trash, pulling papers out all over the floor and shredding them to teeny. tiny. bits. also, the dogs would get up onto the love seat in the sun room, the white love seat, crumpling the pillows and generally making the couch entirely too disgusting to sit on.

the baron decided that these things really bugged her. she remembered that, after all, it was HER house, hers and the husband's! the dogs weren't in charge!

so.

friday, the baron and the husband went out for a bit in the afternoon. they set up a video camera, with a 40-minute tape, to see what the dogs did while on their own.

it turns out, the dogs got up to QUITE A LOT.

for the entire tape, the dogs were restless. for 40 minutes, none of them retired to their beds to sleep. baron barked almost the entire time, which seemed to encourage dexter to bark, then howl. harlan immediately made for the sofa, as did tucker.

unfortunately, much of their activity took place off camera. the husband had aimed the camera at a trash can that had recently been vandalized, a trash can in the living room. when they returned from their outing, however, that trash can was totally unmolested.

but.

the kitchen recycling was strewn across the dining room floor. the baron and the husband had learned nothing! no one had been caught red-pawed. though they had a good idea who pulled the kitchen recycling out, they had no video proof.

so.

friday night, the baron and the husband went out again, to the husband's sister's house. they set up the camera, this time at a new angle, an angle that encompassed more of the living room.

upon their return, some three hours later, the living room trash can was upended, sewing clippings and fabric scraps everywhere. and some sun flower seed shells.

the husband rewound the tape. at the 22 minute mark, DEXTER was plainly seen getting into the trash. she threw it around, ripped the trash bag in a frenzy then abruptly left it in a mess on the couch. not to be outdone, TUCKER approached the mess, nosed around, picked up something in his mouth, then swallowed it.

the preceding story is preamble to this sad turn of events:

on sunday, the baron spent much of her day pretending to leave the house. she packed up her purse, put on a coat and shoes, locked the door, and went down the steps. however, instead of getting into the car, the baron would sneak back up the steps to observe the sun room love seat, the office trash can, and the living room trash can, lurking near the front door. sometimes, she would sneak around the house to lurk under the bedroom widow, craning her neck to see into the room.

she was armed with one walkie talkie; the other walkie talkie was in the bedroom, on the dresser. when tucker and harlan jumped on the bed, the baron said clearly into the walkie talkie, 'get down. into bed.'

in the sun room, the baron caught dexter climbing onto the love seat once. the baron rapped heavily on the window to get her attention, at which point dexter froze in place, then slunk back to the ground and into her bed. she observed harlan (three times!) jumping up onto the love seat. the knock at the window didn't actually phase him, so the baron opened the door and said sternly, 'harlan, get down!'

today, monday, the baron left both the office and bedroom doors open. she is bracing herself for lunchtime, when she goes home to survey the damage.