Tugger was a champion English cocker spaniel, the kind so handsome he spent years in the show ring alternating between four-square poses and trotting around the ring alongside his handler until invited to the stand to have his long lush ears pulled forward over his eyes while a judge conducted a knowing frisk. Maintaining favorite son status was not easy.
Away from the awards ceremonies, Tugger lived on a quiet street in the Queen Village section of Philly with Teri, an equally lively female. While Tugger was off impressing judges, Teri stayed home developing her own specialty: petty larceny of the edible kind and her successes were mind-boggling. She was the mastermind and, when available, Tugger was her willing accomplice.
Owing to the frailty of human will when faced with adorableness, the owner, the part-time housekeeper, and visitors all created plenty of opportunities for Teri to practice. One day the owner left the kitchen to grab a magazine and returned to witness her sweet, precious Teri springing from floor to chair seat to kitchen table to wolf down the remaining half of her sandwich. Thereafter everyone was encouraged to put leftovers on the counter before leaving the room.
Because Teri was barely 14 inches at the shoulder, the counter was high enough to thwart her ambitions. Everyone relaxed. Until Teri figured out how to nudge a heavy kitchen chair close enough to leap from seat to counter. After that nothing was safe from either dog including food warming on the stove. All things edible were placed on top of the fridge before leaving the kitchen, or the pups were confined.
THE CANDY RAID
When the owner was home, Tugger and Teri had the run of the house unless or until they got into mischief, which was often. Like the time the owner was preparing to host a dinner party: She had crowded the top of the sideboard with china, glassware, serving pieces, a silver flatware chest along with table linens, floral arrangements, and candelabra. Before heading to the kitchen, a 2-pound box of handmade chocolates was placed on top of the flatware chest.
While Tugger watched and learned, Teri managed to angle the nearest dining room chair away from the table. From the seat the pups hopped onto the sideboard, lifted the box lid (?), gulped down chocolates leaving behind neatly arranged wrappers and, just as quietly, fled the scene.
The owner was utterly amazed the dogs could navigate an obstacle course of glassware, stacked china cups, flowers, and giant candlesticks without disturbing anything but the box of chocolates. She was by turns shocked, concerned, annoyed, relieved, and genuinely impressed.
Teri and Tugger shared the blame, as well as the discomfort. For days their outputs were indelibly putrid and slimy. Yet their joie de vivre never faltered. Despite never getting another chance to steal chocolate, Teri and Tugger continued to be wildly successful at appropriating people food.