The day my golden retriever, Biscuit, decided to master the art of burglary began with a turkey sandwich and a failed Zoom meeting. I was mid-presentation about spreadsheet optimization when the kitchen door creaked. There he was, tail wagging like a metronome, paws silent on the linoleum, eyeing the counter where my lunch sat—a towering monument of deli meat and existential dread. ‘Nope,’ I said, waving a finger. ‘Not today, you furry thief.’ But Biscuit? He’d already calculated the trajectory of my distracted gaze. With a grace that defied his breed, he snatched the sandwich, tail tucked, and bolted into the living room. I chased him, tripping over a rogue sock (his doing, I’m sure), and found him mid-bite, blissful chews shaking his head like a dog-sized jazz musician. ‘You’re eating my lunch,’ I groaned, but he just blinked those soulful eyes and dropped the sandwich onto my keyboard. The resulting keystroke launched a PowerPoint slide titled ‘Strategic Partnerships’ into the wall. Later, I discovered the ‘sandwich’ was actually a sock soaked in ketchup. Biscuit, meanwhile, was napping in the laundry basket, oblivious to the chaos he’d wrought. Some days, I think he’s plotting a heist. Others? He’s just a dog with a taste for drama—and bad fashion choices.’,
