Asbjørn is a glutton, there are no two ways around it. Any food left unattended for longer than ten seconds is fair game, as far as he’s concerned. He’s wolfed down an entire batch of cinnamon rolls, devoured loaf after loaf of bread, and made short work of so many freshly baked cookies that I can’t begin to count them. The first–and only–time he visited Helena, he ran straight from the front door to the living room, not even pausing to sniff around, and gulped down the roll cake that was sitting on the coffee table. Last Saturday night he gobbled up half of an apple pie in the time it took me to run downstairs and let the cat in. Where goodies are concerned, he is a force to be reckoned with.

Lunchtime today I was standing at the counter toasting an English muffin. Whenever I stand in that particular spot, Asbjørn figures a treat might be in the offing and does his best to convince me that he is worthy. Sometimes he merely sits hopefully, other times he sits up and “begs” nicely. When he’s feeling particularly peckish he pulls out all the stops and rolls over.

This, however, is no ordinary rolling over. In preparation he spins wildly in circles, making at least four 360° rotations; then he hurls himself roughly to the ground, rolls over, and leaps up for his reward. If none is forthcoming, he repeats the entire process, perhaps adding a little barking for good measure.

Today he made such a show that I was distracted from my toasting, and by the time I remembered it was too late. My English muffins were burned, charred almost beyond recognition. As I pulled them from the toaster I thought to myself, Great, now I’ll have to give these to the dogs.

Then a lightbulb went on inside my brain, and I realized I had played right into his hands … er, paws. He’s crafty, that one.