The Trash Bandit Strikes Again

So this happened. Again. For the third time this week, I came downstairs to find our kitchen transformed into what can only be described as a crime scene, with one very guilty golden retriever sitting in the middle of the evidence looking like he’d never done anything wrong in his entire six years of life

The Trash Bandit Strikes Again

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The audacity of this dog never ceases to amaze me. There he was, surrounded by shredded paper towels, empty yogurt containers, and what I’m pretty sure was Thursday’s leftover pasta (RIP), just sitting there with his tongue out like he was posing for a magazine cover. Not a care in the world. Meanwhile, I’m standing there in my workout clothes that I was definitely going to use for an actual workout today, wondering how a 72-pound dog can move so silently when he wants to commit crimes

The cleanup crew (me) and the criminal (him)

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I tried to be stern with him, I really did. But then he gave me that look - you know the one - where his slightly crooked ear makes him look perpetually confused and his brown eyes seem to say ‘Trash? What trash? I’ve been sitting here being a very good boy this entire time’

The audacity of this face

. Marcus says I’m too soft on him, and Marcus is probably right, but have you SEEN this face?

In other news, we’re apparently in the market for a new trash can. One with a lid that actually works. Because clearly our current setup is no match for the criminal mastermind that is Biscuit Hartwell.