I should know by now that you can’t out-smart a dog. Last night Joan fried up some chicken breasts and so when I got around to doing the dishes, I was faced with the problem of getting rid of the oil that the breasts were fried in. I didn’t want to flush it, so that was out. I knew that Skye has been checking out the compost pile on a semi-daily basis, so I didn’t want to pour it there. Then I came upon a solution.
I decided to just pour it on one of the willow trees in the yard. I figured Skye wouldn’t be tempted with it then. As you can see from the photo I was wrong.
An hour ago Skye wanted to go outside. When she didn’t come back in right away I thought I would check up on her. I looked out of the window to see if she was under the bird feeder, picking up scraps of dropped peanut butter or suet; she wasn’t there. I looked out of the back window to see if she was nosing around the compost pile--nope, not there. Then in my search I looked out by the carport and there she was up in the willow tree.
What a dog.
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