Carbihore

We've determined that my roommate's dog is a Carbihore.

She will do *anything* for bready products.

She can be dead asleep upstairs and if you so much as open the cupboard containing the bread somehow she knows and will be poking her nose around the corner like this:

 

It reminds me of stories I head about my Dad's dog Toby, he was stone deaf... you could shoot a starting gun off next to him and he wouldn't move... but if you crinkled a candy wrapper? He would show up out of NOWHERE!

This feels kinda like that.

Staying out of the way

Ah the sound of someone else working, it's comforting and strangely enough has brought back memories of when I was three and my parents were able to afford to put carpet in the house.  I don't remember a whole lot, but I do remember running around on the really fine particle board that's now under the carpet... running into the living room and stepping on the thin strip of carpet tack they'd just laid and then sitting in the rocking chair my Grandfather made me nursing my foot... and feeling indignantly angry at that carpet tack, because it hurt!