Bad boy still gets the love

Isn’t he lovely?


Last night K and I went to town center for ice cream and what a good idea it was! Festive atmosphere (tho many masks in evidence and people eating on benches and widely-spaced picnic tables outdoors), a beautiful sky with the last light of day glowing along treetops, and delicious sweet fatty goodness.

Look what we found upon our return! The treat tin, mangled and empty. The minute I picked it up off the floor, Finn slunk up the stairs, guilty. I still yelled, “GODDAMMIT FINN!” after his low-slung retreat to drive home my disapproval.

And yet this morning (and you have to love this about dogs), hope springs eternal. He thinks I’m gonna play FIND IT with him anyway — you know, the game where I fling treats around the backyard and tell him to, “Find it”? The game that is announced by a distinctive shake of a treat-filled tin can?

Need I add that he got his game? His treats flung? I take this less as a sign of pathetic will power on my part and more of a recognition that continued punishment after a night’s sleep was not likely to be meaningful.