A New Phrase

When I came home from the grocery tonight, the full moon was so beautiful. I came inside and bundled Tom in his coat, then took him outside to see the moon. SuperHubby came too, but somehow in the exiting procedure, SuperMutt escaped. Off he ran through the moonlit streets, stopping only long enough to lift a leg here or there.

Tom and I said, "Goodnight, moon!" and strolled along the sidewalk, while SuperHubby and SuperMutt had a Benny Hill-style chase through the neighborhood. When the dog finally gave up the chase and allowed himself to be caught, I scolded him.

"Bad Dog!" I said. "Bad, bad dog!"

Coltrane went to his kennel. A few moments later, Tom followed. "Ba dog, ba ba ba!" he said, standing outside the dog's kennel. Then he turned to me and made the signs for dog eat. "Cookie?" he asked.

Explaining to a one year old that naughty dogs don't get cookies is harder than you would imagine. Tom was adamant that the dog should have a cookie. He stomped. He pleaded. He screamed.

Ah, for the love of a bad dog.