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F###ing Charlie

First of all I love this dog, but he’s taking to eating the house, and I’m at my wits end.

Whenever I have my back turned he prances off the hallway where there is exposed drywall… we are in the middle of remodeling… and eats the drywall!!!!

He shows no remorse and gives zero shakes about me yelling.

Short story Charlie is making more work for mommy.

Pass the vodka.

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Charlie, the breakfast thief

Exhausted after gobbling up youngest’s breakfast

Every weekday morning the routine is the same. There might be a few hiccups every now and then, but for the most part we are a well oiled morning machine… most of the time.

At five o’clock Rooster and I wake up. I get the coffee creamer from the fridge and the travel mugs from the shelf and put them in front of the coffee pot. Rooster meanwhile goes to the bathroom and grabs the dirty laundry and takes it downstairs.

We briefly scan the news and carry on. Pitter patter… we let the hell hounds out to greet the sunrise, and go about the ritual.

At 5:10 I go wake youngest up. He is the slowest out of all of us, but what kid likes a 5:10 wake up call? At that point I get in the shower quick. By this time Rooster has folded a load of laundry and started another.

Get dressed. Greet Charlie who is patiently waiting on the bed. Rooster gets in the shower. Youngest just now emerges from his room. Usually a hot mess in the clothing choices, but hey he’s dressed tall socks and shorts and all.

At this point I get out everyone’s allergy medicine, warm up their breakfast and leave it on the kitchen counter for them to grab on the way to the dining room table. Then I usually return to the bathroom and do the awkward dance with the oldest of us both brushing our teeth at the same time in a small bathroom.

I emerge freshly brushed teeth, hair thrown in a clip or something, and go to empty the dishwasher.

THIS was the exact moment in time the hitch got involved.

Youngest is standing in the kitchen holding an empty plate. “Did you eat already? You need to go brush your teeth.” He stares at me. “There was no breakfast” he tells me. “What are you talking about? I made you a breakfast sandwich, on that plate, and had it on the counter.”

Enter Charlie, the breakfast thief… he sits at my feet as he always does, but I notice he is chewing on something. You guessed it THE breakfast sandwich in question.

So now when the boy’s breakfast is done we hide it in the microwave or on top of the cabinet. In case you are wondering yes, Virginia; I did make youngest another sandwich.

Charlie, the breakfast thief…. I never knew he could get up on the counter, but we do now!