The Great Flying Maple

I have said for years that my dog can fly, but I have never witnessed his feet off the ground during mid-flight. There are three stories that only add to my theory and I will tell you all of them.

Story Number 1: A few years ago Maple snatched a giant burrito off of the table at the home of my in-laws with no one around to witness it. My brother-in-law Rob has talked about “Burrito Gate” countless times since then because Maple ate his last five dollars in food form. It was not a good day for Rob, and it didn’t make him feel any better that Maple could not eat a thing for the next three days.

Story Number 2: Last summer I treated myself to a freshly baked donut from a local shop. After my morning errands I brought this beautiful maple nut long john home and put it on a plate. I warmed it up in the microwave for 15 seconds and I cut it in half, preparing to savor every single bite. I ate half of it and then remembered I had to get something from the basement. I caught Maple eyeing my breakfast so I put the plate in the middle of the large dining room table, made sure all of the chairs had been pushed in, and I went to the basement.

I was gone for only seconds and when I walked into the dining room I saw Maple licking his chops as he looked up at me. Then I looked at the small plate in the middle of the table. It appeared completely untouched, except for the fact that my second half of donut was missing. It was as if Maple flapped his imaginary wings, plucked that little donut piece from the plate, and inhaled it, all in one swift motion. I really don’t know how he was able to accomplish such things, and in such a short period of time.

Because of these incidents of Maple smarts, we guard our food carefully, we use the eyes in the backs of our heads, and we have developed super human hearing. Just when you let down one of your guards, the flying Maple strikes again.

Story Number 3: Last week I fed Maple and then went to get ready for the day. Usually he follows me but he had an agenda that day, one that I found out about when I entered the kitchen.

The first thing I saw was Maple licking his chops – never a good first sign, as we’ve discovered. Then I saw a cardboard pizza circle on the floor and the bag in which it came ripped to shreds next to it. The night before my husband and I treated ourselves to some spendy pizza, which also happens to be loaded with salt. It’s fabulous, just ask Maple.

We left the pizza on the counter the night before; sadly we had only finished half of it. I glanced at the leftover pizza right away the next morning, pushed it far from the edge of the countertop, thinking Maple could never reach it.

Huh. Just when you let your guard down, right?

Maple saw me looking around the kitchen with a horrified look on my face. After he licked those chops of his – I swear he was smirking – he actually put himself in his room.

About an hour later Maple started crying. He was out of water and looking for more. He drank another bowl full of water to compliment that wonderful salty pizza. If you asked him, I’m sure he would say it was all worth it. But he’ll never tell how he was able to pull it off.