...if she doesn't choke herself first.
I went upstairs to do some chores. Jacey, in full-on don't-lose-sight-of-mom mode, followed. She settled on the dog bed to watch me put sheets on my bed. Then I got out the vacuum cleaner.
Not being totally crazy, I got her off the dog bed and up onto my bed. (I needed to move the dog bed, anyway.) But when I started the vacuum, Jacey decided the bed wasn't safe enough, and she fled from upstairs. I didn't give that a second thought. (My bad.) Almost immediately, Sam came upstairs and bravely stood there and watched me vacuum. I wondered if he'd come upstairs because he was worried when Jacey came down.
No. He was establishing an alibi.
When I came down, I saw evidence that Sam had been in the kitchen. He's dumb enough to take his stolen treasures to his favorite bed--the bed Jacey never goes near. I collected his loot--all items from the trash can--and went in to tidy up the kitchen, right the trash can, get up bits of cellophane. And I went through the kitchen into the breakfast room.
There was Jacey, frantically trying to finish the entire loaf of bread before I caught her. I snatched bits of the last six slices right out of her mouth. I yelled--and the dog couldn't get her legs under her fast enough to flee...
So she went into the crate, and I went out into Saturday afternoon grocery store traffic to buy a replacement loaf. (I just bought the damned thing last night, and it was supposed to be used for sandwiches for lunch starting tomorrow.)
I'm back home. The glutton is sleeping on the dog bed--and I have to watch her for stomach trouble, now. (She could bloat.) I'm sure she's going to be uncomfortable. And she won't be getting much dinner. (I have to give her something because she has more pills to take tonight.)
Let's just say the Valium and Clomicalm aren't leaving her too sedated...