We had no idea, when purchasing a bag of natural, organic-type cheesy poofs, what we were doing. They were good, though, and when I made out my online order for Capitol Center Foods, I added a bag of baked Cheetos.
I am to blame.
Dr. B and I happily munched as we watched BBC's Robin Hood, and unbeknownst to me, I created an addict.
Lucy was looking at us, with that "I'd really not mind at all if you'd let me have some of that" look she's so good at, combined with the "but no worries, I know it's not for me--no pressure or anything" head tuck which makes her so very endearing. I tossed her a cheeto.
CRUNCH! CRUNCH! Slurp! Slurp!
She had a slightly crazed look in her eye.
"No more!" I said, pulling the bag closer to me. "Now go lie down." She obliged, but kept an eye on that bag from her bed under the window, her ears perking up with every crinkle. About an hour later, she was ordered to leave the room when she let fly one of her trademark Green Cloud© farts. Seriously. These things are so potent, they could melt the contact lenses right to your eyeballs.
The next afternoon, while watching some mindless movie, I ate a few more cheetos. I must have brushed my fingers off on the blanket I had on my lap. Lucy came over to see me, and licked my fingers to get the cheez dust off them.
Then, she started to lose it.
She licked my fingers. She licked my hand. She licked the blanket. And licked it. And kept licking it. Until it was soaking wet.
"Go!" I yelled. "Get away! No more cheetos for you!"
The other night, I was upstairs, bed bound with a bum shoulder and knee. I heard her running around, crazily, from room to room, barking and letting out little yips (which she never does--she is a very quiet dog.)
"What did you do to her?" I yelled down, expecting that Dr. B would just say the usual--that she had to poop and he was going to take her for a walk.
"Nothing," he answered. "She just ate her food! All of it! She just gulped it down. Well, I did put two cheetos in her bowl..."
*Photo from Wikipedia.