Dumpster Diving

I recently came home to a disgusting mess. Scout had poked his cute little nose into the trash can to retrieve, amongst other things, the styrofoam bottom of a package of chicken, a used coffee filter and used splenda packets. There were other things I can't remember at this point. Probably the winning Publisher's Clearinghouse envelope. Sigh.

This is not his first visit to the trash. For such a well-loved and cared for thing, he acts like he was raised with the Tramp (of the Lady & Tramp variety). He doesn't dig through the trash because he's hungry. He does it because he likes the taste of raw chicken, styrofoam, coffee grounds, etc. There for awhile, Tie and I would buy a cooked rotisserie chicken from the store about once a week. We'd eat the meat and then throw the rest away. Several times, we came home and Scout had eaten every last bit of the carcass, bones and all. Then there was the easter candy. A couple of years ago, I left a Target bag with an UNOPENED bag of Reese's Peanut-Butter chocolate eggs on the ground. He ate the entire bag of candy. Foil candy wrappers to boot. I thought he might die. Tie wasn't home so I was googling every possible scenario. He lived on. He had more important trash to conquer.

Such as ham sandwiches. About 6 months ago I had make 14 sack lunches for something for our church. The ham sandwiches are in plastic sandwich bags that are in brown paper sacks that are in reusable grocery bags on the floor by the back door. I ran up the street to the post office (gone 20 minutes total). I come home and Scout had eaten 7 of the sandwiches. Even more exciting than his consumption of the sandwiches was his disposal of them once he'd enjoyed the yummy flavors. He threw them all up! It was like he chewed them a minimal amount, swallowed them and said, "That was nice, need to make room for more: YAKKKK!". So, cleaned all those up. Accounted for 6. Had given up on the 7th, assuming he managed to keep it down. I sat down on the couch and found the 7th wonder of Scout the Dumpster Diving wonder. He had somehow managed to throw up one of the sandwiches between the couch cushions. At that point, I actually laughed. It was pretty stinkin' ridiculous.

So, when I walk in the other day and see the trail of debris leading from the kitchen into the living room, I'm ready to send Scout to the dark bathroom (he hates it). But, before I can say anything to him, he's totally hunched over and cowering under the coffee table. He knew he had done something wrong. So, why in the world did he do it in the first place? Which brings me to the actual point of this post...

For some reason, about 10 minutes after this latest fiasco, I thought about how many times I consciously do stupid or wrong (or both) things, knowing they're stupid and wrong. Calling someone a name while I'm driving. Being overly sarcastic to a student (some sarcasm is acceptable and often necessary). Being intolerant of those I love and care about. Pretending to have consulted God about a decision when I haven't. Etc. God could soooo blog about all the stupid things I've done and been sorry for and continue to do. It wouldn't be funny either.

So, whether it will last or not, several times this week, I've thought about that disgusting styrofoam just when I was about to do something I know I shouldn't do. Maybe next week I'll think about the regurgitated ham sandwiches. I guess Scout's dumpster diving is good for something...