Who Took the Tomato?

Okay, There were four tomatoes on the counter when I went to sleep last night, and now there are only three. Bruce didn’t take it. It’s not on the floor in the kitchen. I know that there were FOUR! (More about that later . . .)

Reminds me so much of my days with Lilly. Only she would never take something healthy -are you kidding? Everything had to be put up, locked up, or guarded if I wanted to see it again. There were days that nothing disappeared, and then there were times when the thing that I needed most was gone.

How do you accuse your little darling when you have no proof? That is tricky. If there was no obvious evidence, I would do some quiet, behind-the-scenes investigating first. Were there any tell-tale crumbs from the missing cookies on Lilly’s floor? I’d check under the bed and in past hiding places to see if the stolen item was there. If evidence was found, then we could proceed with consequences and/or “In this home, we do not take things from other people.” or “I don’t take your things. Please don’t take mine.” or “In this home we have plenty of food and you don’t need to take things. Just ask.”

In Chasing Lilly, I told the story about the top of my chocolate pecan pie being swiped, and not a shred of evidence that Lilly did it. But she was the only one home! I was so mad! To tell the truth, (and this may not be considered very therapeutic), one thing that helped her empathize was when I took all her shoes and hid them. You’ll have to read about it. She began to experience what it felt like to have things missing, and there was no yelling or screaming going on in the process.

The missing tomato surfaced in the basement by the washer. Evidently, Dunkin’, my trouble-making orange cat had knocked it off the counter and rolled it across the kitchen, down the landing and a flight of steps and across the basement! Care for a salad? 😆 Nealie