I wasn't going to write about Spondee.
I was going to write about spending five days with 14,000 writers in Minneapolis.
I was going to write about this spray and how, despite receiving mixed reviews from my peers, it enabled me to sashay through a conference center for six hours a day in four inch heels without limping.
But Spondee ate a pizza a few days before we left for Minneapolis.
And when we got back to Philadelphia, Spondee ate a chocolate bunny. A Godiva dark chocolate bunny.
In both cases, I was to blame. I left a box of pizza on the coffee table and went downstairs (albeit for LIKE FIVE MINUTES). I left my purse on the dining room table, knowing full well that Spondee can climb onto dining room chairs and, if he feels so inclined, leap onto the dining room table to help himself to people food.
Spondee eats his feelings. Spondee's thievery demands a Saturday corgi column.
The very worst thing he ever got into was a bag of chocolate covered espresso beans. I called puppy poison control sobbing and was told to check his heart rate every hour.
HE WAS FINE.
He has a stomach of iron.
How about your furry besties? What wickedness have they performed in the name of eating food that is not for them?
Needles? Avocados? Godiva chocolate bunnies?
Let's talk about it with plenty of side eye, face palming, and shaking of our heads in equal parts tenderness, disappointment, and commiseration.