Oh, the Power of Cheese

This past weekend, I hosted another Do Day. This time twice as many people attended. Instead of three, there were six (and me), so things were a bit hectic for the first fifteen minutes or so while Ray was turning himself inside-out with joy as his favorites arrived, I was taking coats and drink orders, and people were settling in.

As soon as people were situated, I brought out the cheese tray, dropped it on the coffee table in the middle of the room, then stopped and stood at the door to kitchen watching my dog. Ray's nose twitched.

"You stay away from that," I said sternly to the nosy hound.

Ray walked around the coffee table and settled himself comfortably on the floor, stretched out longways between the couch and coffee table (the room is small, the floorspace just enough for one large hound to stretch out), his head even with the cheese tray but just below the top of the table. I eyed him suspiciously.

"I'm watching you," I said threateningly still standing in the kitchen doorway.

Ray looked at me, his eyebrows dancing, innocence plastered thickly across his face. Thinking that there were enough people in the room to keep him out of mischief, I turned my back to the dog.

Not even a second later, Ray's favorite in the whole world, Caleb, yelled, "Ray, get away from that!"
I turned quickly to see the hound, still reclining but with neck outstretched and head tilted at just the right angle, slurp a piece of cheese from the tray in front of him. I strode to the dog, dragged him to his feet and wrestled him away from the small group of Doers and the irresistible cheese tray.

"So, he just touched that one piece, right?" I asked Caleb.
"No," Caleb replied, "His nose was all over that plate. But it's fine."
Of course, I thought to myself. Ray passed over the Smoked Gouda and the Pepper Jack. He was looking for the cheddar. His favorite.

Ray spent the rest of the afternoon on his picket out front (with his big comfy bed). It was a rare, beautiful February day, with temperatures in the low 70s, but all Ray could think of was cheese. He spent the next couple of hours knocking on the door to get back in the house.