If you've ever wondered what two people say to each other when they get home to a scene like this, it's pretty much exactly what you'd imagine; silence + jaws dropped.
And if you follow me on Instagram, you'll know this is what Mike and I walked into on Friday afternoon when we got home from work.
Cliff has had about four months of freedom from his crate. He's baby gated in the kitchen so "freedom" is a relative term. He hoodwinked us. We started letting him just sleep in the kitchen with the crate door open. Then we'd leave the house for small periods of time and come home to no calamities.
Then on Friday, he decided he'd been just looking at those cookbooks on the bottom shelf too long.
There are too many funny things - he was hungry so he ate cook books? He was bored so he decided to learn about cooking?
Of course, in the end, it was no one's fault but our own.
And in the end, you just laugh because really. What else is there to do?
The biggest irony of the whole situation was the book that was the MOST devoured (aside from my Jamie Oliver, Real Food) was a Month-Month "Train Your Labrador Puppy Book" which coincidentally, from what we were able to salvage from the wreckage, instructs "Don't let your 11-month puppy out of his crate. He's not yet to be trusted." We had it in the kitchen for quick and easy access. Of course we acted confident and stopped reading it after month 5. Oops.
So this weekend I spent a bit of time re-organizing the cupboards in the kitchen.
My cookbooks found a new home. Above the sink. Out of reach. Behind doors.
Wish us luck.