The Donut Test

Mark and I were sitting in his doctor's waiting room yesterday morning when a thought came to me, a mental picture. So I turned to Mark and asked him, "Did you eat that donut this morning that was sitting on the plate, on the table next to the bed?"

"Ummm...   No."

"Well then, did you move it to the kitchen counter?"

"No."

"Do you think it will still be there when we get home?"

"Why wouldn't it?" 

Why wouldn't it? In a house with a dog that can scale heights like a mountain goat, he asks why would a donut left on a table disappear? Not only would the donut disappear, but anything else nearby with the aroma of donut on it would disappear.

"I'll bet you that donut is gone when we get home. If Bette doesn't walk across the bed and onto the table to get it, Chandler will simply walk up to the table and gobble it down. It's at his eye level. And that napkin I gave you while you were over there eating, that'll be shredded and strewn across the floor and bed."

"Do you really think they'd do that?"

"Yes, I do."

That's when Mark looked up and stared straight ahead while muttering, "Oh, and all those tissues in my waste basket...  "

Yes, Bette loves tissues, and the tissues in Mark's trash basket are like a super dog toy to her. On more than one occasion we've come home to find the bedroom trashed, with shredded tissues everywhere. Oh, and did I mention that the reason we were at Mark's doctor is because he's been under the weather. You know, blowing his nose a lot and coughing up phlegm into tissues. One more thing. When we got home, the donut was still on the table. There were no shredded tissues, and best of all, Bette did not even pee in the house. Good doggies, this time.