It's Not Funny Yet

Yesterday I finished Christmas shopping, admittedly a bit smug since it was only December 15.  I tucked the gifts away, including a bag of candies and chocolates, under our bed.  Knowing Judge has recently developed a taste for things like Burt's Bees chapsticks, I made sure he wouldn't be able to reach them, since I couldn't.  Fast forward less than 24 hours later.  I arrive home with the kids around 5:00.  My first clue should have been Judge's humiliated face upon our entry.  Hmmm.  Whatever, Knox lets him out while I head upstairs to change clothes, which I MUST do immediately after I get home.

Our bedroom floor is littered with the remains of icy squares,  three large Godiva dark chocolate bars, coke bottles, chocolate money, and (not surprisingly) untouched sour gumballs.  Glittery foil is scattered as far as the eye can see.  Chocolate smears like poop cover the floor.  "JUUUUDDDGE!!!!" I scream, insisting he come into the room while I point, shake my finger and say "BAD DOG, BAD DOG!!!" then send him away.  I put him in the basement while Rogue helps me clean up, then gives me an American $20 bill (isn't that $50 Canadian?) from his piggy bank to help me cover the cost.  After we get the place sorted out, and yes, now I regret not taking a photo to share with you all, I can't find Knox.  After calling out and walking through the house, we finally find him, crying horribly, in his bed.    He doesn't like the way I've been yelling at Judge.  Sigh.

Rogue then writes this note:
Dear God,
When will Judge stop being an animal and start being a responsebable DOG!
Sinserly,
Rogue*
P.S. Please respawn

Judge spent his time in the basement really thinking things over.  While he was thrilled to rejoin the family a few hours later, he will be less thrilled to realize that we are re-introducing The Kennel.  He spent HOURS today getting that stuff out from under the bed.  Tomorrow he can spend hours remembering it while behind bars.  And yes, I know that's not really going to happen and I may be personifying him a titch, but I'll feel better knowing my chapsticks are safe while I'm at work.

Maybe now's the time to be thankful that his stomach appears to be made of steel, as I didn't have to clean up any bodily fluids...how long does it take for chocolate to digest?