Stephen and Kathy put me in my upstairs crate while they eat. After they are finished, Stephen let me out. I still had my lead on, but no one was holding it so I could drag it around.
They let me into the kitchen. The last time I went there it didn't go so well. I got distressed when Kathy left the room and went pee pee, when Stephen was cleaning it up, I pooped. The pack does not really like it when you poop in the dining room. So for seven thousand years, (also known as a week), I couldn't visit the kitchen.
But tonight I was in the kitchen. Oh how glorious. Stephen cooks, people tell him he is a good boy cook. Don't know if that is true, might just be some more of that Petco psychopuppybabble positive reinforcement. But what is true is that he is fast in a kitchen, he was trained in school to cook, must be like puppygarten. However, when he worked for Bill Kertsos at the General Store in Fredericksburg, everything he had been taught was negated. Bill didn't mind if half the food ended on the floor as long as you were turning orders at the speed of a sighthound. If you are a puppy then Bill is the most awesome guy in the puppyverse.
Puppy's are not supposed to eat people food, so Kathy swept the kitchen. She used the broom dustpan combination, but I was in my crate so I couldn't bump the dustpan with my head and race her for the forbidden taste.
There wasn't much food, but there smells were there; oh such heavenly smells. Stephen was putting up the food and Kathy was washing dishes and I got to see the refrigerator with the door opened. Oh, that is an inspiring sight. Then he closed it and THERE WAS A DOG TRAPPED IN THE DOOR.