OK, I did it. I got into the cookies. I went looking for my travel bag with treats in the back of the car and stumbled upon the box of cookies. The lid came off so easily, I just couldn’t help myself.
I feel bad now—everyone was watching me from the restaurant window, talking about what a good dog I am, so well behaved, not like other dogs—always getting into trouble. I was patiently sitting on the console waiting for them to finish lunch. They didn’t know what I’d just done.
I guess the overturned box and crumbs all over the floor were the tip off I’d been up to something. Now they call me the cookie monster.
At least I didn’t get sick. I know I shouldn't eat junk. If I eat junk I don't get my good treats. What if I get fat and won't fit into my new coat? Will I ever learn?
