Jolly criminal

Work and life stuff has kept me away from Gilly a lot in the last couple of weeks; while he’s been having a blast with his extended pack of canine and human compadres, we both needed some QT today.

We did a good four miles around the dog park with his beloved Jolly Ball and a succession of friendly faces: Goldens, wire haired Jacks, a drop-dead gorgeous Rottweiler and an equally stunning Italian Mastiff, a Border Collie mix with a neon tennis ball, the usual Labs and Lab mixes, a plethora of mutts. He tired himself out utterly, and as ever, ignited joy the whole way.

On the way back, we stopped for lunch: a warm steak and cheese pita which I left in the car while I filled up the gas tank, asking Gilly to leave it until I got back.

I can trust him in this sort of situation. Always.


When I got back to the car it was obvious he’d waited for almost the entire time I’d been gone before caving in, carefully peeling back one edge of the paper, and nibbling a very discreet corner off the sandwich.

Oh, Gilly, I cried, truly surprised at the evidence of his crime. You didn’t!

His tail thumped rapidly several times; then in an act of canine yoga I’ve never seen before, he inserted his head fully into his own armpit in shame.

And held it there, in perfect stillness.


I challenge you not to laugh in that situation.

Just try.


We enjoyed the rest of the sandwich very much.


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