Sparky brought a chipmunk to dinner.

Sparky is a good lad, but sometimes, he does the wrong thing.

Turns out that he isn’t chipmunk-blind.  Sparky probably brought the chipmunk in, and it probably left out the patio door last night.

Only click if you can tolerate seeing a guilty dog hoping that I’m a moron.

I hate when a cop asks if you know how fast you were going, so I didn’t ask Sparky if that was a chipmunk in his mouth.  I taught him to never incriminate himself, so the correct answer is, “Waf a hif-uh?”

I almost weep to see the despair and regret in those eyes.  But his mouth looks funny, so that helps.

The real issue is that Sparky didn’t drop the chipmunk when confronted.  He almost did.  He wanted to, but couldn’t do it.  That means that Sparky didn’t think I’d go in to get it.  That was unpleasant for everyone.

I tossed the recently deceased over the fence, and put Sparky in crate lockup.  It’s almost dinner time for both of us.  I’m going to make my dinner and walk passed the crate a few times so Sparky knows that I’m leaving him in there.  Then I’ll let him out, feed him, and let him know that we’re still friends.