I really enjoyed making a challah last week for Rosh Hashanah. I really enjoyed sharing it with you via my first Project Food Blog entry. I enjoyed it so much that I decided I would make a second challah for Yom Kippur, which started tonight. In fact, I enjoyed it to the point where I decided to make two challahs--one for my family and one for family friends who let myself, my brother and my dog takeover their living room this past Tuesday as our house was sandblasted. This morning, after baking off my challahs, I walked the few blocks and dropped my gift off. They enjoyed it, by the way.
This left me with my own fluffy, golden, round challah. Since we we were heading out for my brother's birthday dinner early this evening, I decided to save it for tomorrow night's dinner. Wrapped tightly on the counter, I left my beautiful challah to await consumption in a mere twenty-four hours. I'm an awful challah mother--I know; but while curiosity may have killed the cat, delayed consumption never killed a challah. Until now.
Upon walking into the house post-dinner, we were greeted by our loving dog, Angel:
She's a great dog--thick, soft fur; alert ears; expressive face; enjoys tummy rubs and walks; likes to show me her teeth when we play. She is my parents' favorite child. She is no longer my favorite sibling.
My mother tried to keep me from entering the kitchen; she tried to protect me. But I just had to look. My challah was on the floor. After cursing that devil of a dog, I was rightly offended: she didn't even eat the whole thing. Of course I immediately took a picture with my cellphone, but let's not talk about that.
The dog knew she should be ashamed--for attacking my challah and for not having the courtesy to eat the whole thing. She ran and hid in the small space between the treadmill and the wall. When confronted with the evidence of her transgression, she put her ears down and put on her sad puppy face.
Angel Mug Shots: Frontal & Side Views
This face did not work on me. After many trash incidents, I am immune. She lost her tummy rub privileges for the night.
Especially since she just burped. Twice.
No animals were harmed in the making of this post. She knows when she's been bad and preemptively hides until we confront her with the evidence and sternly tell her she's a bad dog. She'll wander around sad for a few hours and then promptly forget that she's not supposed to get in the trash or eat our food. That means she'll do this again.