He was a bit surrounded: Phoebe behind him, and Corey in front, taking these photos, and me to the side, admonishing him not to eat that butter!
Uh-oh. Now Mether is going to crawl under the table. I feel a spitbubble forming at the corner of my jowl.
I am unrepentant. I want to eat this butter. I want to eat all of it.
And given half a chance, I would. But Mether is using her growly voice now. She is escalating.
I told that bad little dog to sit and stay and I got the butter back from him and I told him he was very naughty. With kisses afterward.
He was not sorry, not one bit. And now...NOW...when we take butter out of the refrigerator, he roos at us. As if we're going to just spontaneously grant him a whole stickabutter for hisself.