The time is 7am, and John wakes from sleep to the sound of rustling from another room. (No, no, all our livestock is still accounted for. It's "paper" rustling that I speak of.)
When you're daddy to an eight-month old puppy, rustling is not a noise you can sleep through. So I stumble out of bed, stricken into consciousness via raw hide bone pressed firmly into the curvature of my foot. The rustling sound can still be heard and draws me to the bathroom where I'm picturing the contents of a garbage can strewn about everywhere, perhaps even a magazine laid waste in a display of canine boredom in front of the toilet.... but oh no...
The dog ate my homework.
I swear to all that is good and just in the universe that I can finally say with all honesty that one of the most preposterous excuses ever known to man or offered to the most disbelieving of teachers has finally come to pass for me. The dog... ...Ate my homework.
And lo and behold, there's a bone in my brief case to answer the question of "what possessed him"? So... Basset Hound drops bone in bag, goes looking for bone, comes out with homework drags it to the bathroom for some good reading (???) material, and one plus one is two.
It's laughable, only because I still had all of the work on my computer so there's really no harm done, but what are the chances?? Hell, I'll gladly feed him the entire course page by page when I've finished it and banished the tedium from my life.
So Porthos got away with a mild scolding for making a mess, and moved-on to other things... like tossing soil out of the potted tree in our living room yet again. He's so lucky he's cute, 'cause lesser dog owners would have sold him to a third world country for his meat by now. And, yeah, they eat stuff like that. Why only last night I learned that they eat cow lips (fur n' all) in Madagascar. Thank you very much Amazing Race.