This morning I got up to make hash for breakfast. I can barely abide more than five bites of beef for dinner, but fry it up with diced potatoes, onion, garlic, a little bacon and leftover roasted peppers and “BAM!” You’ve got the breakfast of champions.
I opened the fridge door and peered in.
K: Have you seen those two ribeyes leftover from dinner the other night?
The Husband: They were in the fridge.
K: Can you look? Because maybe I’m just not seeing them.
The Husband: (searching oh so methodically) Nope. Maybe they are in the other fridge?
K: I specifically remember putting them in the fridge after I cooked hash for breakfast yesterday.
The Husband: Maybe Zinni got them. Are you sure you put them in the fridge?
K: $16 worth of meat? Ah, YEAH. I made a point to put it in the fridge immediately because we know how The Dog can be.
The Husband: (working his way down the guilt chain, yelling to The Boy in the other room) Did you take the meat out of the fridge?
The Boy: Yes.
The Husband: Where did you put it?
The Boy: By the coffee maker on the counter.
You have GOT to be kidding me. Yeah, there was some vague conversation yesterday when I was on the computer about him being hungry and some vague behavior regarding the fridge, but really? Either The Dog got an opposing thumb and opened the fridge himself or he had an accomplice.
There was one large ziploc bag on the floor in the kitchen yesterday. Since there were no signs of forced entry upon the bag, The Husband said he just picked it up and put in the trash. He said he thought that it had fallen out of the trash.
The Dog hasn’t eaten any dog food in two days.
I guess it’s safe to say my investigation is now closed. And a lock is going on the fridge today. Now I have to go eat my diced potatoes and onions.