Doesn’t Fall Far

My old dog Black Jack was an apple hound; watching him steal one from the fruit bowl on the table when he didn’t think anyone was looking always left us laughing. He wouldn’t go for the direct snatch and grab, instead he’d pretend to watch the TV and then crane his neck over his shoulder and use the side of his mouth to grab his prize.  His eyes would roll back into his head so he looked like a crazy alligator and never accomplished his goal of being incognito.

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I didn’t think the current crop of dogs liked apples, they certainly don’t Bogart the Honeycrisp cores or raid the fruit bowl like Jack did. But I caught them this afternoon picking their own crabapples off of our tree in the backyard.  I think they got the idea from my dad who spent the afternoon a few days ago cleaning up the fallen apples.  The dogs always take an interest when there’s work going on.  It looks like they got a taste for them while helping clean them up and now they have to pick their own off of the low hanging branches.

Luckily, they haven’t yet joined the Farm Workers Union to protest their low pay or having to urinate and defecate in the same place they work picking fruit.

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