The Remains of the Day

I was tired after a long weekend of revelry in Vermont and the 4-hour drive home, so can you really blame me for not unpacking the cooler? There was nothing cool in it, just a pot, cans of Vernors and some dry goods I had taken up to make breakfasts and a dinner.

I figured it was safe, sitting on the floor near the kitchen, lid securely fastened, and off I went to work on Monday. What I came home to would have made somebody proud -- Harry Houdini maybe, or more likely Yogi Bear. The cooler lid was off and discarded like last week's squeaky toy. The lid of the pot was vehemently cast aside, and the macaroni and cheese and maple syrup sampler boxes both had teeth marks. The jar of cayenne pepper, which had been in the pot, escaped harm. But the ripped wrappers of instant oatmeal and long grain and wild rice lay nearby, limp and empty.

Just for kicks, I left the cooler in its spot, still with the cans of soda inside. On Tuesday, the lid was again on the floor next to it, but everything inside was intact. On Wednesday, Hathaway didn't bother with the cooler at all, and there it sits, lid untouched. Nearby though was the peel from the banana I had strategically left on the kitchen counter.

Our little game of outwit-the-pit continues ...

The Remains of the Day

I have no idea what Hathaway was looking for in the closet, because the shoes certainly don't smell like food. He pulled out a shoe rack and some shoes, then apparently found the cones I use for soccer drills. Looks like they were crunchy.

The Remains of the Day

Pretty good, eh? This is actually the second time he has eaten a banana right out of a peel that is still attached to the bunch. The first time, the bananas remained on the counter. I don't even want to think about how he managed that. I also will not mention how long it took me to notice.

Yes, it is rather annoying and I wish he would stop chewing things. However, I marvel at his food of choice and his determination. The latter outweighs the former.

The Remains of the Day

Hathaway often greets us at the door with something: his squeaky dog, his Nylabone, a tomato. The kids call it the "celebration (item he's carrying)"

Here, amidst the trash he got because I failed to put it out, he greets me with the "celebration dog." Looks like he's smiling for his close-up.

The Remains of the Day

Hathaway has separation anxiety. That's one of the reasons we fostered him for a few weeks before adopting him outright. I'm home a lot -- or I was at the time -- but I had to be able to leave when I wanted without worrying that the house would be destroyed when I got back.

Or as Kim at the shelter put it, "That he's not going to jump out a window trying to find you." Um, yeah, that too.

The good news is that Hathaway is working his way through it. The neighbors say he no longer barks the entire time I'm gone. I can tell he still goes room to room looking for me. I can also tell he sometimes settles in and curls up in a warm spot to wait.

Often, though, he chews something. From the counter or my nightstand. He prefers things that will nourish him, which I must say, is effective multitasking that I can appreciate. If he can't find anything to eat or chew, he will pull papers or oven mitts off the counter.

In a way, it's a battle of wits. Can I put away everything that he will potentially chew/eat while I am gone?

He is winning. The Remains of the Day is the photographic evidence of that.

It's the first thing I look for when I come in the door -- The Remains of the Day -- and I anticipate it will be a regular feature.