Bad Bobo

Bad, bad, bad Bobo.  For a few minutes on Saturday, I would have given him away or kicked him to the curb.  Our almost perfect dog, who has never, ever jumped on a counter or table for food, did the unthinkable on Saturday morning.  He ate a large chunk out of Madeline's birthday cake.  Once I noticed, I screamed at him--I had spent at least 5 hours making the cake.  Matt took him over to the cake and yelled at him, pointing to the cake, and he, Bobo, appropriately hung his head and slinked into his crate.  We left him there, and did not think about the fact that he had gone into his crate alone and that no one had locked it.  I worked to fix the cake. . .essentially, I just turned it around.  A few moments before Madeline's birthday party began, I went into the dining room to make sure everything was in place.  Wouldn't you know. . .Bobo had eaten another large chunk out of the other side of Madeline's cake.  At this point, I acknowledged my defeat and stupidity at not locking him in his crate, and laughed--though he still got a good talking to.  So, here it is. . .the cake we will never forget.