Gravy Gal

Much to my astonishment, Big Guy accused me of splattering gravy the entire length of the dining room table. I figured that perhaps he was covering his own gravy tracks, until I saw the size of the gravy puddles and the skinny line of gravy drops leading from the dining room and into the piano room. There Big Guy and I found the dainty blonde Tequila lovingly licking a spot on the newly cleaned Oriental rug. That's when Big Guy swore, and swore again, as he realized a piece of chicken was missing, too. It's not the first time Tequila has stolen. She grabbed a chicken wing from an unguarded plate in the den. And her predecessor Chuck, the blind dog, infamously stole and ate 33 chocolate chip cookies--a crime we paid for with massive spouts of dog diarrhea the next day. For her gravy crime, Big Guy gave Tequila a two-minute time-out in her crate. She spent it licking her gravy tinged paws. I moped up the spills. A bit of me is quite proud of the gravy gal's daring accomplishment. All that's left to figure is why Big Guy thought I would fling the gravy. Someone has some explaining to do, and it is not Tequila.