Hermetically Sealed Security Check

From: Mia Cope

Whenever you begin a new job, you should always check the status of the systems you inherit. Thus it was, on one of my first days at Casa de Togo, I had a golden opportunity to review and rate Food Storage integrity.

Daddy was out of town. Momma¹ and I had enjoyed a quiet day. I napped mostly, but remained vigilant. That’s my job as General Manager.

After her lunch, Momma announced that she was going to the gym to exercise. I pretended to be very sleepy. I could hear Momma sigh and then say, “You’re being such a good girl, I’ll not put you out in the backyard. Don’t get into any mischief!”

And with that, the door closed behind her. I waited a couple of minutes just to be sure she was gone. “Let’s see now. Since Momma said, ‘Don’t get into any mischief!’ there must be mischief opportunities lurking somewhere.”

Obviously, we all know that dogs can easily create mischief. So it wouldn’t seem too suspicious if I did just that. But I’m not your average dog. What I needed was to create the appearance of mischief that could later be disproven.

One of the easiest categories to tap in this regard is stolen food. And all of the food in this house is found in the kitchen. Within minutes, I had done a quick scan of the countertops and then checked to see if the refrigerator door had been left ajar. No luck. But as I pushed away, the glint of a plastic bag caught my eye. My diligence had paid off — a loaf of bread!

With the light touch of a cat burglar,² I snagged the wrapper, careful not to puncture it. Then I slowly backed away being careful not to disturb anything else on the counter.

With bread in mouth, I made my way to the back hallway. Positioning the loaf perpendicularly to the baseboard, I then threw my weight against it, flattening it like a pancake. Using my nose, I then pummeled it repeatedly in an effort to blend it into the wall. Don’t be fooled. Multi-grain bread can be a tough opponent.

I did what had to be done. I reset the loaf at a 90º angle and repeated the process. The end result was a perfect ball of baked dough that was still safely encased in its protective plastic bag. Then I left it in place. Smashed but not beyond recognition.

As I returned to the kitchen, I realized that the bread might not be something that was missed immediately. I knew that I had to stir inquiry so I began looking for a second attention grabber.

The kitchen was a dead end, so I made my way toward the garage. There had to be something by the door that could alert Momma that security had been violated.

Fortunately, Momma had not pushed the sliding door from the hall into the utility room completely closed. Sliding my nose in the opening, I quickly pushed the door back on its rollers and made my way in. Within minutes I found the perfect mark. In the utility room there was a sack of things that Daddy carried on his walks with Togo. I located the little fanny pack that contained poop bags and . . . a zip-lock bag with treats.

With the treat bag extracted, I left the fanny pack and the larger sack next to the door . . .

Momma came home a few minutes later. On seeing things out of place, she immediately began an inventory. She called out, “Mia, what did you do with the treat bag?!”

Bingo. I knew I had her full attention. I just went into a distracted pose by the front door while she began a full search of the house. That led, of course, to her discovery of the ball of bread in the hallway.

Later that night when Daddy arrived home, I heard Momma telling him about my “misbehavior.”

”The treat bag was missing,” she began, “and I started looking everywhere. And oh, we’re out of bread because Mia also swiped the loaf off the counter and smushed it. It’s odd that she didn’t try to rip open the bag and eat some.”

Of course, I didn’t. I’m a professional and this was only a test of a very sloppy system.

Momma continued, “But I know that she got the zip-lock bag with the treats and they’re nowhere to be found. The only explanation is that she ate all of the treats and, in the process, ate the bag, too.”

I started to step into protest but then remembered stories about Togo’s ability to ingest a lot of things without a second thought. The story of the gardening glove seemed unlikely, but apparently it was true. I kept my mouth closed since the cover story that I ate everything served my purpose. Time would tell the full story.

Momma did institute a thorough examination of my daily “business” in hopes of recovering the treat bag. Daddy was less diligent.

About a week later, Momma and Daddy received a video call. They sat close together on the couch to crowd in front of the camera on Daddy’s phone. After what seemed to be a very pleasant call, Momma and Daddy got up from the couch and Daddy began to rearrange the pillows.

That’s when he saw it.

“Nancy, you need to come in here,” he said, with a big grin on his face.

I sat down close by to watch the fun.

When Momma returned to the couch, Daddy said, “There appears to be something there between the cushions on the back of the couch.”

Somewhat apprehensively, Momma asked, “What is that?”

That’s when Daddy reached over and plucked the intact zip-lock bag from my hiding place. Momma made a quick assessment. No treats missing and the bag was unopened.

I had made my point. Looking them both in the eye, I let them know that security was going to have to tighten up around here.

And to myself, I whispered, “Be on notice, cat burglar types. Not on my watch!”

1. “Daddy” and “Momma” are not their real names. However, Togo had already trained them to respond to these nicknames, so there was no point pursuing anything more formal.

2. Given my proficiency in this sort of thing, I find it offensive that “cat burglar” is the agreed name for those who are good at purloining items. Although, to be fair, “dog burglar” sounds like someone who would steal dogs. And everyone knows that no one would steal a cat.