Picture this:

Slipping into bed late at night, trying not to wake your darling girlfriend, tired and ready for sleep. Sliding your hand between cover and sheet you feel something strange. You close your hands over something just a little crisp, something that gives way quickly to a soft, squishy substance that closes over your fingers.

“Oh, shit,” you say, fearing the same, wishing like hell you had something to wipe the mess onto.

“What?” Your girlfriend asks. Her voice is a little blurry from just waking. “What’s wrong?”

“Wait a second. Don’t move. I have to turn on the light.”

You push yourself back up, doing your best to keep your hand from fouling the rest of the linens on the bed. “Shit, shit, shit...”

Up to the light, turn on the switch, and turn back to the bed intent on finding what the dog has left you. You push the cover back slowly, wondering how bad the mess is going to be, only to find the leftover bits of a piece of pumpkin pie that the dog has stolen from the trash and carefully buried in the bed for later use.

Damned dog.