Columns and stories of life from the Fredericksburg area.
WRY TOAST: Here’s a black-and-white example of a real hoarder
UPDATES: STILL STASHING STOLEN GOODS
ABOUT 2 1/2 years ago, I wrote a column about my border collie’s hoarding habit.
While our beagle prefers to steal vittles from the trash, our border collie, The Bunk, has a more sophisticated palate.
He likes to swipe goodies off the kitchen counter—and sometimes out of the Lazy Susan—and spirit them back to his hidey hole, a small patch of grass next to our back porch.
Over the years, his spoils have included a wedge of cheese, a pan of quiche, a tube of toothpaste, a container of Italian bread crumbs, a can of cinnamon roll icing and a loaf of fresh rye bread.
And those are only the items we know about.
A few months back, I started compiling photographic evidence of his exploits, mostly for my own amusement but also because if this keeps up, our losses could be substantial—and having pictures will make it easier to make an insurance claim.
BOILED PEANUTS & BANANA PEEL
I bought this can of boiled peanuts for my husband, against my better judgment. Between their mushy texture and their briny taste, they have all the culinary appeal of a sweaty gym sock. I find them akin to something you might be forced to eat on “Fear Factor.”
But for reasons incomprehensible to me, he loves them. I’m not sure why The Bunk grabbed the can out of the Lazy Susan. Maybe he liked the colorful label?
In any case, he apparently thought better of it because he left the can unopened and settled instead for a banana. And if you think that’s because he’s incapable of opening a can, you have not met this dog. He once disassembled our living room couch—stuffing, springs and all—in about 10 minutes. A can is no barrier for a border collie.
EGG DROP SOUP
This was some pretty good egg drop soup, courtesy of Formosa Chinese restaurant in North Stafford. It’s better if you put those little crunchy noodle things in it, but it appears that The Bunk didn’t bother with them.
It also appears he didn’t use any utensils, but instead slurped the soup directly from the container. We generally don’t allow that kind of behavior at the kitchen table, but perhaps the hidey hole dining standards are more relaxed.
These never made it to the hidey hole, probably because the door to the back deck was closed. So The Bunk carted them off to his second-favorite dining spot: the living room carpet.
Generally speaking, these taste better when toasted. The heat really brings out the rich flavor profile of the pyridoxine hydrochloride, not to mention the sweet essence of calcium pantothenate.
But The Bunk was apparently in a hurry that morning. Probably running late for a sheep-herding gig. So he ate them frozen, right out of the box. Thankfully, he did not use syrup. That stuff is really hard to get out of Berber.
My stepson is a Cub Scout, and Cub Scouts push popcorn the way Girl Scouts sell cookies. Consequently, our garage is full of the stuff. We usually pop up a few bags for family movie night and dump the contents into a bowl.
I’m not sure how much actual popcorn was left in this bag when The Bunk snatched it off the kitchen counter. But judging from the way he peeled the bag open and licked the lining clean, I’m guessing he was more interested in the butter-flavored residue coating the inside. I think it’s fair to say he got all of it.
If he snatched a large Coke and a package of Jujubes along with the popcorn, I’m unaware of it.
This was one of four loaves of pumpkin bread I baked one weekend. My husband and I devoured one almost as soon as it came out of the oven. My mom says they taste better the next day, but they taste pretty darn good while they’re still hot too.
I took one loaf to a potluck gathering and gave another to a friend who’d just had a baby. I figured I’d bring the last loaf to a co-worker who’d been ill, but when I looked for it on the kitchen counter, it had vanished.
I was pretty sure we hadn’t eaten it, but a loaf of bread usually doesn’t just get up and walk away on its own. So I checked the hidey hole. Sure enough, I found the chewed remains of a foil baking pan. Though it was licked clean, it still smelled of cinnamon, nutmeg and misappropriation.
I had one of a batch of peaches in the car on the way to work the other day, but I finished only half because it wasn’t all that good. Sort of mealy and not very tasty.
Apparently, The Bunk agreed with my assessment. He must’ve grabbed this one out of the bag on the counter next to the toaster oven. But about halfway through, he decided it wasn’t worth the calories.
He did, however, polish off a purloined fortune cookie, though he left the plastic wrapping and the paper fortune behind, not far from the peach. The fortune? “You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink.” Perhaps if you leave that water on the kitchen counter, the horse will simply take it.
Edie Gross: 540/374-5428