The pack leader is out of town and I decided to make lasagna as a surprise dinner for his homecoming today. While I was at it I figured I would make a huge pot of meat sauce in the big LeCreuset pot and make an extra lasagna for the freezer.  So we’re talking BIG HOT CAULDRON of sauce here.

Bubble, bubble, toil and . . . here comes Trouble.

Came into the kitchen to find Crispin, calm as dammit, standing on his hind legs with his paws resting on the edge of the stove, happily chowing down on boiling hot pasta sauce. I figure it was hot enough to kill any dog cooties he dropped in it, but the boy must have an asbestos mouth.

I moved the pot of sauce to the back burner, and set the large heavy kettle in front of it, and left the room again. Half an hour later I heard a crash, and ran in to find the now-dented kettle on the floor in a pool of all the water that had been in it. Obviously, he was trying to reach the pasta sauce.

We may yet have to kill him. In the meantime, we’ve established a new unit of measure here: MPH,for “mischiefs per hour.”

Maybe the Obamas could rescue him.  He’s even hypoallergenic.

Wonder how high the counters are in the White House kitchen.