Cash or compost?

atm500hHow much is that doggie in the window?

Never mind that, how much is a $100 bill worth once it’s been “recycled” by said doggie?

I don’t mean to mention names, but Jasmine, you’ve got some ‘splainin to do …

It all started when a human in Jasmine’s extended-family pack left a large-denomination bill unattended atop his luggage while said pack-member took a dip in the pond, or, in human lingo, a shower.

When he returned to the crime scene, aka unattended luggage, aka (in doggie lingo) “fair game,” he found said high-denomination bill was, in human terms, M.I.A., missing in action, or in pop country lingo “gone like a freight train,” or, in prime-time TV lingo … “Without a Trace.”

Things that make you go, “hmmmm.”

For some time, it was a proverbial “cold case.”

But thinking humans are inclined to connect dots. And the dot-connectors amongst us deduced that:

  1. said high-denomination bill was there before said human pack-member left the room, and …
  2. said high-denomination bill was gone when human pack-member returned, and
  3. the only other residents in the house at the time of the crime were cute and innocent-in-appearance, but suspects nonetheless, canines, and furthermore that
  4. one of said canines had a known proclivity toward eating paper and
  5. was unlikely to distinguish between a) Kleenex, b) trash, and c) a high-denomination but paper nonetheless, bill.

Therefore, thinking persons deduced that the perp was, quite likely, a pup.

The homeowners and pack-leaders quickly assembled a vigilante team and appointed select unlucky humans to “24-hour canine recycled compost” surveillance duty.

Sure enough, four or five pooper-scooper routines later, a team-member retrieved “Exhibit A:” a “recycled” high-denomination bill that remains, to this day, in a bell-jar atop a refrigerator in the garage where said canine-suspect can see it during her not-so-beloved bath ritual, thus triggering – humans can only hope – the canine equivalent of a guilt trip.

Payable in doggie biscuits. Forfeited w-a-l-k-s. Or slobbering, ‘I’m sorry, it sure looked liked a snack to me,” Sheltie kisses after which all is forgiven.

Crime? What crime? Darned wide-eyed Shelties have turned everyone into blithering, bleeding-heart human enablers once again.

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