Sit, Ubu, sit. Good dog.

If only my dog were as good as that Ubu.

During my Christmas break, Casey stayed with my parents for two weeks while I galavanted around DC. During that time, she managed to eat a loaf of bread and a box of doughnuts (on different days, at least) from the counter.

Since she's been home, the acting out has continued. I'm not sure if she's punishing me because I've been busier the past two weeks, but she has been BAD. One afternoon, I came home to find her hiding out in my bedroom in the basement, her paws covered with a thick, doughy white substance. Further investigation uncovered the misdeed: she had pulled a box of pancake mix from the shelf and torn it open. (I'm assuming she was disappointed that it didn't actually taste like pancakes, since she left most of it sitting in a giant pile on the floor.)

Last night, I was sitting comfortably in my room, reading my assignments, when I heard her plod down the stairs. When she hadn't come into my room after several minutes, I got suspicious. I found her in Nay's room, eating a discarded pita and yogurt container.

This afternoon, after class, Nay came home to discover Casey had taken a banana from the counter and rumaged through her trash. And the piece de resistance? Shamelessly eating a cookie from a cookie sheet while Nay was even home.

So no, I don't have a dog, I have a cleanup crew, and these days she doesn't even seem to mind what she's cleaning. So much for obedience training. I wonder how those TV folks got their dog under control?