Anything Lime



A little game of “now you see it, now you don’t, and in three days we’ll be seeing it again”

When we arrived home from a disappointing first day at flyball, feeling defeated, we walked in, dropped our things and headed to the couch where we spent most of the day in sweatpants eating Miracle Whip straight from the jar and listening to “Everybody Hurts” on repeat.

When I finally did get up I noticed I had left the bag of flyball gear on the floor. All of my training tools — including a bag of freeze-dried liver — were in that bag. It’s a bad of idea to leave Kya’s favorite thing IN THE ENTIRE WORLD on the floor in her ideal sniffing zone. That’s making it too easy. Not like the time when she bowled down a band of school children skipping happily down the sidewalk to get the liver. This was like, “here, dog, have some freebies I’ve conveniently placed on your floor for you. And also, nice hair cut. Too bad you suck at flyball.”

The bag appeared untouched. I moved it out of reach and onto the sideboard. Out of sight. Out of mind.

Fast forward to the following day. I decided that a little bit a training was the perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon with Kya. I went to the bag to get the clicker and the bag of the liver. Clicker? Check. Liver? Liver? Anyone? Bueller?

I looked everywhere. And by everywhere, I mean I looked between the couch cushions, in Kya’s toy basket, under all the furniture and in the closet on my shoes — all of the places where Kya instinctively hides all her goodies. Nothing. Nada. No liver to be found.

It’s got to be in the car…. there’s no way she could have gotten to it!

I chopped up some new liver, and we went about our training. She did quite well, I might add. I’m quite proud of how smart, mature and well behaved she’s become. Before I go on, let me tell you what came out of her butt today. Tuesday. Three days after the liver went missing.

The missing liver hadn’t even crossed my mind in days. In fact, I figured I’d just left it in the car or something. I never would have imagined Kya would be clever enough to steal from me and completely destroy all the evidence that could prove her guilt.

When I saw the disfigured poop on its way out, I was overwhelmed with curiosity. I pounced on it with a bag over one hand and dug around like an archaeologist on a dig. I was half intrigued and half grossed out. No, I’d say I was more than half intrigued. I admit that part of me wanted more stuff to come out of there. Like my middle school photo album that I lost and have yet to track down. Then I could look at it and be all, “I CAN’T BELIEVE I USED TO PART MY HAIR IN THE MIDDLE!”

And as for Kya, well, wow. She did it. She stole the treats. When I wasn’t looking. And she was smart enough to completely hide the evidence. Plus, there’s no way I could punish her now, not even with the intact Ziploc bag in my hand. Not even with the Ziploc still locked (how’s that for a commercial? Can pass through a dog’s digestive tract and STILL WON’T COME APART!)

I disposed of the poo. Kya had won. I was outsmarted by my own dog.

Clever girl.

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