His breath still smelled like icing
There he was...innocently sitting on the couch, watching a little Dr. Phil and clearly enjoying his afternoon. Then I saw the look. I have seen it so often I can spot it from forty paces, at least: guilt. Yep. Teddy ate my Halloween cupcake. I saved it from class and left it on my kitchen counter and damned if the little bugger didn't gobble it up. The cupcake wrapper was in pristine condition. He licked that mother clean and not a crumb was left behind to indicate that a cupcake had ever graced this house. For all of his faults, he certainly has a delicate touch. The paper wasn't even wripped. It looked as if he smoothed it out in an attempt to make it look neat. I'm surprised he didn't place it in the trash can as a curtesy to me. Hell, I could probably use it again.
I know, I know, you're saying to yourself, "Katie, haven't you learned by now?" My answer? Apparently, not. What I have to say in my defense is that he seems to be blessed with some sort of doggie super powers. The moment I leave the apartment he flies around and picks out all of the things he knows I value, need, or want and either destroys it or eats it.
Question to self: was the m-m's incident for naught?