Buried

Today, Angel was trying to find a place to hide her rawhide. She’ll wander around whimpering, looking for the perfect place, so that I won’t go steal it the moment she turns her back. Like I want her wet, soggy, chewed-on rawhide. Anyway, I caught her on her stomach, legs splayed out behind her, belly-crawling under my son’s little table, pushing the rawhide with the tip of her nose under his stool. As she inched back out, she was expecting me not to acknowledge it was there. So, I stupidly wandered around, acting like I didn’t know where it was and asking her to show me. Angel just smiled at me, her eyes saying, “You’ll never find it.”