One reason I’m not a dog person


I’ve never really owned a dog.

My grandparents had a Lhasa-Apso when they lived with us for a few years. Sasha. This dog did not like me. At all. This dog loved everyone but me. She would piddle on the floor with excitement when she saw anybody. She shook from side to side and was practically turning herself inside out to say hi to everyone. Not me. I swear she glared at me from under the hair that hung in her face. Deep down, I did not like this dog either and I am guessing she picked up on that vibe.

There were several instances in our co-habitation of the same dwelling that cemented our dislike of each other. This was the first.

I had taken a road trip across the border to pick up an American Hershey bar. There was/is a taste difference between the Hershey bar we could buy in Canada in comparison to the ones purchased in the United States. This taste difference often warranted a trip stateside to load up on said bar. I want to believe there was big bar that weighed in at a pound. I could be wrong, but that is my memory and I’m sticking with it.

Hopping across the border wasn’t too big a deal at the time. We lived maybe 45 minutes away so we often would pick up a few grocery items as we filled up the gas tank at the same time. This is going back to when gas prices and dollar values made it worth the drive. The extent of the questions at the border were, “Where you headed? To get gas and groceries. Ok.” The return questions were almost identical. “Where you been? Getting gas and groceries. Ok.” You could actually save money with these trips.

My grandparents were back east for a few weeks leaving us in charge of the dog. My mom was on a business trip, my brother was living in Toronto at the time, so it was just me and my dad holding down the fort. This one particular afternoon/evening, we decided to go on a drive. No destination in mind, just a drive, maybe stop for coffee. . .

We left the house with Sasha having free roam as she was allowed to do. I had left my treasured Hershey bar in the middle of a 3′ square coffee table that was about two, maybe three feet away from the couch. The chocolate bar was still wrapped in it’s foil and paper. I paused and looked at my chocolate bar thinking maybe I should move it. Then another part of my brain said, look at the jump the dog would have to do to get onto the coffee table. Sasha stood maybe 14-16″ to the shoulder. She was a small dog. The discussion in my brain was like that of the angel and the devil on a person’s shoulders when they are undecided about something. Move the bar. Leave the bar. She’ll eat your chocolate. She’ll break her neck jumping onto the table trying to get it. Better safe than sorry. She’ll slide right across the tile table missing the bar altogether. Move the chocolate. She’s asleep on the other side of the house. Move the chocolate. It’s wrapped up, she can’t smell it. And so went the argument in my brain. After all the dithering, I left my prized American Hershey bar in the middle of the 3′ square tile table with a short dog asleep in another part of the house. My mind’s eye pictured her having to manage to jump up onto the couch, which she seldom was able to do, then launch herself horizontally three feet to the coffee table and stop dead in her tracks on tile. Any pet owner or anyone who has seen pets on videos knows they cannot stop on tile. Goes against the laws of physics.

We came home from our lovely outing to find a tiny shred of foil in the middle of the kitchen floor. My brow furrowed as I realized what I was looking at. I called for the dog. She did not come running. No surprise there as it was me who was calling her. She doesn’t like me remember? Why would she come when I called her? I ran to the living room where my chocolate bar was supposed to be. There wasn’t anything on the table. I found the dog asleep in the middle of my parent’s bed. There was a scrap of paper wrapper stuck to her beard by chocolate. Now, I had heard chocolate can be fatal to dogs. By the loudness of her snoring, I knew she wasn’t dead. I looked everywhere for the remainder of my chocolate bar. Could she have really eaten the full pound and the wrapper? The entire house was turned upside down trying to find it. Gone. Completely gone. Sasha woke up during the search for the chocolate bar and gave me a rather smug look as she walked past me to go outside into the backyard. I followed her outside thinking she was leading me to my Hershey bar. Nope. She was in a squat for some time making a bar of her own. She sat in that position for a long time. There may have been a sheepish look in her eyes but I had no sympathy to offer. That had to be her come-uppance for scarfing down my chocolate. Other than this one long squat in the backyard, she came away unscathed from the event.

Me? Well, I did learn a very valuable lesson from this.


Never, ever leave chocolate around someone you don’t want to share it with under the best of circumstances. NO matter how unlikely it seems, they will find access to it.

The willing will always find a way.



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