A Well Buttered Dog

Last night I finally had enough energy to attempt to make dinner. After a few days of the stomach flu it was no wonder that meals hadn't seemed very appealing to me, especially not cooking them. So I made some very easy porcupine meatballs and buttered noodles and broccoli. We ate dinner, which everyone seemed to enjoy very well and then headed off to various pursuits in our home. I sat on the couch to try to find something on TV to watch as Colin helped Ian with the new Lego he had purchased the previous evening (he had earned by finishing his new Awana workbook in two weeks).
After a little work on the Lego project it was time for Ian to go to bed, so we read him his devotion and tucked him in. Colin got his computer and I returned to the couch to rest as I still wasn't feeling very energetic after the flu. As I sat I listened to Dilly drinking water, which seemed to be taking a long time. I realized that the sound of the dog drinking water sounded funny. So I called her. "Here Dilly". To which I received no response, which made me all the more suspicious so I said in a stern voice (the one that says...I know what you are doing and YOU are in trouble) "Dilly!" She came running out of the kitchen and went straight into her crate. Now I knew she had been up to something and went into the kitchen to investigate. At first, nothing seemed out of place. Then I saw it, a butter wrapper with a tiny sliver of butter on it in the corner by the stove and the garage door. The truth was revealed to me and I called to Colin to share this great tragedy with him. He walked into the kitchen and I said "Do you know what that dog did?" He gave me a look which clearly stated that no, he did not have the foggiest idea what had happened. "She ate butter!" I told him. In fact, even without having seen her take the butter with my own eyes, I knew exactly what had happened.
When I made the noodles for dinner they were done before the meatballs and so I had taken a new stick of butter and set it on the counter and used about a third of the stick to butter the noodles and I had left the butter on the counter. Dilly has tried in the past without much success to swipe butter from the table (as long as it's still sitting in the wrapper). She's so tall that she acts like a giraffe and uses her tongue to try to get it. Never mind the fact that if she would stand on her hind legs she would be taller than me, she reaches with her tongue until she can get something or we catch her in the act. She had used her tongue to slide that butter right off the counter and onto the floor for her own butter feast. The sound I had heard was Dilly licking that butter. She licked it all the way across our kitchen until she reached a corner where it couldn't move anymore and that's when I caught her.
Now the whole time I was explaining this to Colin, Ian kept popping up out of bed and we kept sending him back. He would pop up again and open his door and say "Finish the story!" He wanted to hear all the details of Dilly crime.
Well, Dilly and her crate were banished to the garage for the rest of the evening and into the next morning because I wasn't willing to find out what two thirds of a stick of butter do to a dog. Well, at least not in my living room!
And do you know what Colin said when I was muttering about Dilly being a giraffe? He told me "She's your dog. You're the one who wanted her!" He's right, too. She is my dog and she's great, but she certainly makes life interesting around here!