Stop Sock Thief!

A number of items have been going missing in the last year a little bit. Coincidentally, this is about the same amount of time that Monty has been in our lives. Some of these objects are being found in the oddest of places and include a variety of things seemingly picked at random: remote controls; socks; letters; candles; instruction manuals (but only with the useful sections chewed out). The list is pretty endless. The culprit is obvious as he’s not the most covert of operatives. He leaves the really stealthy stealing to the CAT burglars (apologies for the awful pun). Monty tends to prefer the direct approach. The equivalent in the human world of his robbery techniques would be a battering ram though the bank doors (that are automatic) followed by smash-and-grab approach, no masks, flicking the Vs at the security cameras before tumbling out with bank notes flying out of bulging, badly packed bags. There may even be a rebellious little pee up against the bank manager’s leg. That’s the kind of thief a beagle would make. No planning, no balaclavas, no blueprints of the grounds, no glass-cutting devices and certainly no panache. Just a whole lot of enthusiasm.

He’d be caught almost instantly and during the subsequent line up would bound up to the witness and jump up at him to make sure there was no doubt who took the loot. Prison would be a synch though with their superlative digging skills. And then onto the next bank.
So far, it hasn’t got this far. I haven’t needed to call in the police and he seems content to confine himself to domestic thievery. I’ve been playing ‘good cop’ and suggesting to the beagle that if he doesn’t do it again, I won’t call the appropriate authorities. He looks at me blankly and then grudgingly lets me have the hole-ridden sock back. I inspect it and then he gets it anyway as a toy seen as it’s now more of a leg warmer than a sock.

The problem is that when I try to apprehend the suspect and regain possession of the sock/ toilet roll/ remote control/ DVD... he has the gall to try to resist arrest! Managed to catch photographic evidence of growling sock thief.

All of this kleptomaniac behaviour got me thinking about the financial implications of this hound of ours. Take a goldfish for example. What exactly do you need to enjoy a successful ownership of a goldfish? Bowl? Check. Water? Check. Fish? Check. Smelly-food-flakes-that-smell-and-look-suspiciously-like-dried-up-scales-of-other-more-unfortunate-fish-that-may-or-may-not-have-come-into-direct-contact-with-a-cheese-grater? Check. And that’s about it. Even a cat doesn’t need all that much. Bowl of water and a mini sandpit to make a mess in and they’re fairly happy. Well as happy as a cat can look.

When I think through a mental itinerary of the legitimate things we’ve had to purchase for Monty PLUS the added on extras that weren’t mentioned during the teary farewell from his siblings, I think we could very well be living in a mansion with maids for the maids. We could take a speedboat along the canal that we had commissioned to run from the front door and a rocket to the moon whenever we needed a little space (sorry, second cringe-worthy pun).
Instead, we keep forking out more and more money on the ‘indestructible’ toys that Monty instantly destroys (I’m sure he can read as sees these labels as a challenge). I can’t afford to keep buying them or replacing each household item he ruins.

There’s only one thing for it. We’re going to have to rob a bank and I’ve got just the accomplice for it. I’m off to knit a stripy jumper in size beagle.