Good dog. BAD dog.

On Friday, I took Monty to the vet.  He's become so much more social in the last year, I wasn't nervous at all about taking him to a place where there might be dogs.  We ran a few errands and then showed up at the vet's office nice and early.

Walking in, I noticed a man with a large Border Collie pup hopping and pulling and jumping beside him.  I took my cue from The Dog Whisperer and remained "calm and assertive".  I walked into the lounge as though my dog would not attempt to rip the skull from the hyper dog trying to say hi. 

It worked.  Monty wandered in, took a look at the other dog and promptly ignored her.

I'll take it.

We sat down and waited for our turn.  If he behaved well in the waiting room, he excelled in the vet's office.  He went with the staff with minimal pulling and looking at me over his shoulder with a whine of "Et tu Brutus?" and got himself weighed.  He's the same weight as last year which is 3 years in a row -- a miracle in the household of our family (both dogs and people).

The visit went as scheduled with only a small tooth issue coming up.  We head out to do a couple of more errands before heading home. 

I was hungry, so grabbed a chocolate bar from the local store.  As I ran in to post a parcel to my Dad, I had the thought that I was so happy with how well behaved Monty was, I wasn't even going to worry about the fact I'd left the other half of my chocolate in the car.  His mom?  She would have eaten it from my mouth as I bit down.  But not Monty.  He's a good dog.

I returned to the car to find Monty had eaten the other piece of my Reese Peanut Butter Cup. 

Paper and all.

I guess I was setting us both up to fail.