Cookie Thief


My wife loves to bake. She had jus’ finished making a couple dozen chocolate chip cookies and she gave me one.

I am — after all — her official taster — when Kyle isn’t around.

Anyway, I had this cookie in my left hand and was getting ready to bite into it, when she asked if I’d like a glass of cold milk to go with it. I told her I would.

As she poured my a small glass, I was standing there with my hands by my side. Suddenly the cookie I was holding was snatched out of my hand.

When it happened I looked down only to find our dog, Chubbs licking his chops. He had devoured my cookie in one gulping bite.

“Hey!” I shouted at him.

Chubbs however was unphased by my scolding, as he stood there sniffing the air for the possibility of another one and wagging his tail with delight. It was the first and only time he proved himself to be a cookie thief — although he was known to help himself to an unattended sandwich or five over his lifetime.

I sure do miss that big ol’ brown dog.

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