If you have read Taz’s story you are aware that he came into our lives when he was six or seven years old. Unfortunately Moe did not readily accept him into the pack and made his life stressful at times. That may the reason why my husband tried to spend some alone time with Taz. He would often take Taz with him if he had to run short errands. The following is one of the adventures of my dynamic duo.
At the time, we lived in a rural part of a small town that is situated about 44 km east of Vancouver, BC. At the junction of our street and one the main streets in town was an Esso gas station which contained a Tim Horton’s store. For those readers who are not Canadian, Tim Horton’s is a doughnut shop that is really part of the fabric of being Canadian. It features good coffee, doughnut’s and sandwiches all at reasonable prices. No second mortgage required to purchase a cup of coffee. Situated directly on the route into town, it became routine for my husband, who runs fueled by coffee, to stop and get a coffee.
On this day Taz was his copilot, proudly riding shotgun in the passenger seat. When he stopped for his coffee, my husband decided to buy some Timbits (a box of round doughnut holes) to bring home as a treat. A decision that he regretted at the next stop, when he had to leave Taz alone in the van with said Timbits. Driving a van there was no trunk to use for safe dog proof storage. He finally opted for thrusting the box of Timbits under the driver’s seat. He rammed the box as far back as he could reach and made sure it was firmly in place. He left hoping out of sight meant out of mind for Taz.
On his return Taz was still sitting in the passenger seat, nonchalantly looking around. His posture clearly stating “nothing going on here”. When Taz finally dared to make eye contact it became clear something had happened. His brown muzzle was now covered in powdered white icing sugar. A glance at the torn and empty box laying on the floor in front of the drivers seat confirmed his guilt.