Cassanova

Adorned in marshmallows

Clarence bolted past his electric fence last Friday and disappeared into the sunny afternoon. For a while he danced around us, just out of reach, and then he was gone.

If he'd been my first dog, Pogo, I would have spent the afternoon chasing after him. But because he's lower on the totem pole, and, as multiple people have independently confirmed, he's a knucklehead, (they've used that word specifically,) I went about my business, which, in this case, was digging in the garden beds.

After a few hours, I felt a twinge of worry, eventually worked myself up into real concern for a few minutes, and then got distracted. Finally, my phone rang, and I heard this nervous-sounding voice on the other end. Real concern! Turns out she was from our insurance agency. False alarm.

An hour passed and the phone rang again.

"Do you have a dog named Clarence?" 

"Yes. Is he in one piece?"

"Yes. I just came home from work and found him in my house, which is totally fenced off so I have no idea how he got in. We got a dog two weeks ago and I actually found Clarence in bed with her, in my bed with her, cuddling and asleep."

Classic Clarence.

And here's the final twist in the plot: after Chris went off to collect the beast, I returned to the garden, only to have my phone ring again. It was my friend calling to tell me that the guy who had called about Clarence was her husband. In other words, he'd spent the afternoon marauding in my friend's house.

 

His quarry: a glitter-encrusted Easter egg