We have a dog. THIS dog. Or rather, my sister has the dog, and the rest of us like her, too. The dog, Ginger, or Little Girl, she responds to both, is the most spoiled creature I have ever seen. But, despite this, and being a tiny, fur-ball sort of lap dog, she is the most mild-mannered and agreeable dog out there. The stuff of Lassie lore. But she does have her own mind.

Last week, my mother came back from Las Vegas, and brought with her several boxes of See's chocolates for gifts. Very much to our surprise, while Mom was out and Ginger was left on her own, she found the plastic bag in which Mom stored the chocolates, pulled out a box and claimed it herself, got through the one layer of paper, a layer of plastic, another paper wrapper, cardboard, and then the last level of protection, a flimsy paper sheaf, and gorged herself of the expensive confection. Mom found her later, among chocolates strewn everywhere, looking quite proud of herself, with a face smeared in sticky, sweet brown.

Mom went off on another trip this past Friday, leaving the dog in my sister's care, and lo! she did it again! While my sister was at the gym, Ginger found a cache of Hawaiian Host Macadamia Nut chocolates, tore through a box, and scarfed down the goods. My sister came home to find the dog passed out next to her kill, unable to move. She said there were NINE chocolates missing. ("I can't even eat nine chocolates!" she said. And Ginger only weighs about 11 pounds.)

She's amazing.