The ham and caramel-thieving poodle also had a thing for blueberry muffins. She loved summers in Maine and thrived on escaping from our farmhouse and running through the fields, across the street, and up the hill to the lady who fed her addiction.
“I don’t know, but your dog loves blueberry muffins!”
Our dog’s discerning palate fascinated us. We would buy a plate of assorted muffins and set them out as bait for the poodle. The telltale click and tinkle of her collar would sound as she reared up and the plate would be carried off, the muffins picked over, the blueberry ones devoured, the raspberry, the cranberry, left tilted on the plate.
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