The Consequences of Unwrapping Someone Else’s Present

Lesson 42: Always make sure you fully consume the evidence

Photo by Jess Bailey on Unsplash

In my previous lesson, I extolled the virtues of chewing wrapping paper. In this lesson, I’ll share a story of a present unwrapping gone bad.

On this occasion, I spied a present left in a bag on the floor, nicely wrapped and snuggled among pink tissue paper. I rarely find a present left unattended at my level, as I am what’s known as “vertically challenged.” Okay, I heard that snigger and know all the jokes already. Keep it to yourself.

Usually, I work around my height issues because I’m a good climber, but there was no need on that day. There it was, sitting on the floor next to Mommy’s desk, taunting me.

“Keke,” it said. “Show us your true mettle. Are you a dog or a kitty?”

As you can see, I had no choice. I started with the tissues, but after the pieces were strewn about the floor, the only thing left in the bag was the present. 

It wore a pink ribbon over its brown wrapping paper. It called to me, asking me to reveal its secrets. The aroma was strawberry with hidden undertones of forbidden fruit.

It was lighter than I expected as I pulled it out of the bag. I held it with my paws. The ribbon and bow were easy to dispense with, thanks to my broad experience untying Daddy’s shoelaces.

Next, I tugged at the brown wrappings. Sometimes, you can find yourself rushed by an army of onlookers. But when you are alone, it can be a relief to savor the process and enjoy the complex flavors, fragrances, and textures.

I carefully tore the paper into tiny shreds, making a pleasing little pile, like the type I make in my daily wanderings in the grass.

Then, there was the inner plastic layer, colored brightly with words I didn’t bother reading. The plastic was strong, slipping out of my paw hold several times as my teeth bore down on the crunchy wrap. Underneath, the contents were soft and squishy, but the plastic wrap had a cellophane sound to it, like my dragon chew toy. This present was going to be satisfying in so many ways.

After several attempts, I broke through the cellophane with my teeth, revealing a pink marshmallow filling. The pungent strawberry flavor erupted, like biting into a starburst candy.

I felt the exhilaration of knowing the prize was within my grasp, like a shark smelling blood, and tore frantically at the crisp cellophane. My adversary put up a good fight but was no match for my razor-sharp fangs. After fully opening the wrap, I consumed the sweet innards with passion. Passionate feelings, that is, not passion fruit. Candy manufacturers take note: A little passion fruit might have added a welcome nuance.

In any case, the cellophane covering was too tough to be shredded into tiny bits but quickly licked clean. And licked, I did. (I hope any candy manufacturers have also read my previous post and are changing their cellophane formulas to allow for effortless shredding of their wrappers in the future.)

I had no sense of time. I may have laid there picking through the bones of my quarry for a minute or an hour. It didn’t matter. Such are the simple pleasures of complete fulfillment.

At some point, I heard my humans return from their activities and thought it might be best to dissociate myself from the incriminating evidence on the floor. A distraction would help, too, so I trotted to the front door, the picture of innocence as I sat patiently waiting to be let out.

It didn’t take long, and as Mommy bent to attach the leash to my harness,  two things happened. The first was a well-tuned guttural eruption as my stomach expressed its satisfaction with the recently consumed pink sweet. In other words, I burped. 

The second was a nose sniff. 

My ears are well attuned to the sound of a sniffing nose because it usually means somebody is checking me out. More on that in a future lesson, but the point here is that the owner of the snout is usually of the four-legged variety and not two.

Humans’ olfactory senses are underdeveloped, so I seldom consider that my scent might be used against me by one of them. But there are those odors that certain humans are enormously fond of and can recognize from a distance. Even eons of negative evolution have not worked their magic on certain scents like a barbecued steak or certain types of candy, and she seemed to have detected such a rare fragrance.

“Keke, what’s that smell?”

Next, she picked me up to examine me more closely since humans trust their eyes more than their noses. I looked away, but not quickly enough.

“What’s that pink stuff on your nose and mouth?”

When caught red-handed (or pink-mouthed), the best thing to do is to feign ignorance, which I tried to no avail. She sniffed more closely at the damning evidence, then asked me straight out: “Did you get into that present by my desk?”

Luckily, dogs are not expected to answer such questions, so there was no need to plead the Fifth.

For those of you who enjoy crime shows like Law and Order, let me tell you their portrayals are not realistic. There is no time spent examining evidence, taking fingerprints or DNA samples, searching for corroborating witnesses, or presenting said evidence before a judge before returning a verdict and announcing sentencing. Nor are there opportunities for appeal.

The judge heard the case, condemned the perpetrator, and meted out punishment, all in about ten seconds. Fortunately, as this was a first offense, the punishment consisted primarily of a lecture about the dangers of consuming unknown substances and the possible suffocation of said consumer should she swallow the plastic wrapping. 

Obviously, my human didn’t read my previous blog post, or she would have known of my warning about the dangers of suffocation and plastic wrappings. I could have countered with my own lecture on the importance of keeping dangerous substances out of reach of children or innocent puppies, but this didn’t seem the appropriate time. 

Then, she launched into a lengthy diatribe on other subjects. However, I wasn’t listening because I found I still had a little gob of strawberry marshmallow on my lip and needed to focus on licking all of it off before anyone decided to try and wipe it off with a damp towel—which, in fact, happened only seconds later.

The critical point is to learn from one’s mistakes to avoid repeating them. In this case, the error was in failing to cover my tracks and consequently losing my case before it ever began. Always make sure you fully consume all evidence that may be used against you.

The outcome of this story is that I got off with no more than a lecture about the dangers of dabbling in someone else’s presents. Of course, I might not be so lucky on my second offense, but how will I know if I don’t try?