Piles of Blame

I have a habit of playing the blame game. If something went wrong in my younger years, I’d want to pin it on my brother or sister. As a mom, when my kids act up, I often attribute it to the influence of other kids, the time of year, the cycle of the moon, barometric pressure—you get the picture.

So, I’m wondering what you would do if you let your dog out to go to the bathroom at night and she disappears. And after about 10 minutes of surveying the estate you still haven’t found her.

And then you discover she has let herself into the neighbor’s house and is ransacking their walk-in pantry, an orgy of Beggin’ strips, nacho chips and all manner of other food. And you see by her bad example that she’s leading the neighbors’ own puppy into a life of crime.

And when you realize that the neighbors didn’t even notice anything was amiss, you have to fess up and apologize for your dog. And they tell you this is the second time tonight she has helped herself to their kitchen.

And when you take her home, she promptly chucks up 2 huge piles of this on your floor?

I know, you ask yourself, "What’s wrong with those people?! Don’t they know how to lock their doors? "