Little Miss Perfect

By kateandcarla

January 29, 2011

Category: Uncategorized


This posting is for those of you, like me, who parent a dog that’s still a work in progress…and will be for the foreseeable future.

Such as Rebecca, whose Golden Retriever Duffy celebrated the holidays by absconding with a pineapple upside-down cake, secured in GladWrap®, and managed to devour half before intervention.

And for Beth, whose collie Maya counter-surfed goodies at my home during a recent visit.

The news? Kayti The Perfect has gone down.

When my partner Al brought Kayti home from Missouri last October (,  he sweetly announced that she was the perfect dog.  They had rescued each other.

So, when we stopped by a furniture store a few weeks ago and he purchased a loveseat so they could sit together to watch television, I took it in stride.  And when the vet specialist helping manage her allergies said a diet of freshly cooked pork and potatoes was the best way to resolve a recurring rash, he began cooking.

That’s really where this story starts.

Last Tuesday, Kayti grabbed a cooling, five-pound pork roast off his table and carried it to her pillow-bed in his office.  “It still had the fork in it,” he puffed.  To which I responded, “So, now you’re telling people she eats with utensils.”


The Brit is not perfect.  Which makes my chocolate Lab Bridge—who has just graduated from being The Wolverine to The Water Buffalo—feel much better.  Because, just this morning, she read the following headline and she’s still moaning about being an underachiever.


2 Responses to “Little Miss Perfect”

  1. Don’t forget Duffy’s consumption (from the kitchen counter) of an entire ear of corn, with cob and shuck; three fresh tomatoes; a pan full of broccoli; and an entire pound of butter, including wrappers. Oh, and a half a pumpkin pie two Thanksgivings ago…

  2. No, I had the perfect dog. My matronly Clumber Spaniel Poppy. While my husband (at the time) and I were out without her, she took four ceramic mugs off the kitchen table and set them together, upright, unbroken on the kitchen floor as if to say, “See–I could have been a very bad dog, but I wasn’t.”

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