The dog ate my Valentine

I spent Sunday and Monday in New York City wandering a vast space known as Toy Fair. While I was away, my husband John decided to surprise me by making homemade sugar cookies in the shape of hearts. 

This man? He knows I love cookies. And homemade anything, which is why he didn’t just go to the store to buy a mix. He made these cookies from scratch, with colored icing and all.

He carefully arranged the lovely cookies, which had filled the house with a sweet, buttery scent, and placed them in the very center of our kitchen island to await my return home.

A little while later, he came down the stairs to find frosting smeared all over the hardwoods, and a very guilty dog looking at him. 


Do you remember the dad’s tirade* in A Christmas Story after his beloved leg-lamp is broken? I’m pretty sure the house sounded like that for a few minutes.

The dog survived, and so did my husband, though I’m not sure he’ll be making  cookies anytime soon.

But thanks, my love, for the effort. It is so very much appreciated. Even if it was a 65-pound pooch with an undiscriminating palate who was the one who scarfed it all down.

*warning: sound clip will automatically play when link is clicked, so watch that volume!


  1. Nan | Wrath Of Mom says

    Aw. How could you be mad at that dog? She's so sweet. As is Fairly Odd Father, from the sounds of it.

  2. Your counters are not tall enough.

  3. Who could possibly remain angry at that face?

  4. True love is baking cookies for you and not kicking the dog to the curb. You're a lucky woman.

  5. My dog, who looks a lot like yours, did the same thing. Except the cookies were in two separate tupperware containers.

    He waited until I was out of the house and my husband was in the shower. A dozen chocolate chip cookies and two dozen sugar cookies.

    Just wait until Star figures out how to open the trash (we had to put a baby lock on ours).

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