The Case of the Missing Muffin

Throughout history, there have been thieves.

Great thieves. Not so great thieves. Brilliant thieves. Moronic thieves. Dashing Hollywood thieves - Cary Grant in To Catch a Thief. Pierce Brosnan in The Thomas Crown Affair. The Kissing Bandit on the Flinstones. He even left a single red rose behind after robbing his victims. (I leave slobber)

These ones are thieves you can't help but love.

They're not evil.

Just playful.

And very good looking. Dark, smouldering good looks and charm.

They can't help but steal. It's the challenge. The game. The reward. They even steal from those they love.

And only ask forgiveness if they are caught.

It is in the great tradition of those dark, good looking thieves you can't help but love that I walk.

Storm. The Great Muffin Thief.

My conquests are many.

A muffin left in the car today by Kim, my wonderful dog walker. I suppose she thought her muffin was safe since she was in the car with me. She knows otherwise now.

An entire package of soup left in a pot on the stove. (and, might I add - without the pot leaving the stove or hitting the kitchen floor)

A significant amount of chocolate kahlua cheesecake cooling on the back of the stove.

A giant bag of super rich dog treats left on the back of the counter.

A loaf of freshly baked bread taken from within a plastic grocery bag set on the floor for just a moment.

A pound of butter from the kitchen counter.

I am legendary.

I get caught. Regularly.

How do I avoid being sent to the big house?

Wiggle my ass. Ears flat back. Wag my tail. Pretend I am soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo sorry.

Heh heh.

Works every time.