Dion Does A Tablescape!

I've been a non-blogger this week, enjoying my last few days with my daughter Alida before she went back to California. We had a wonderful time out at the beach house:

. . . and back here in New Jersey at That Old House.

This morning I drove Alida to LaGuardia Airport in New York for her flight back to California. Mixed feelings -- I'm glad she is so happy there, but I miss her and wish she weren't quite so far away.

Okay, pity party over.

Now for my distinctly odd contribution to Tablescape Thursday, contributed by our dog, Dion DiPoochy.

Set the scene:

Dutiful Mom buzzes out this morning to pick up some bagels for Dear Daughter to bring back to the primitive natives of Pasadena, who don't know what a "real" bagel is.

Dear Daughter packs most of the bagels into her checked luggage, but Dutiful Mom tucks a nice fresh salt bagel back into the big brown paper bagel bakery bag, and leaves it on the kitchen counter; it will be her lunch when she returns from the airport run.

Off to the airport. Mercifully light traffic, quick goodbyes, and back in 2-1/2 hours. . . time for lunch.

A quick glance at the kitchen counter reveals no brown paper bag and no bagel. No bagel?

No one -- no one human -- has been in the house; Howard is at work, Anne is on Guam. Hmmm.... perhaps our ghosts have decided they are indeed hungry and have taken matters into their own hands. (Ghost story here.)

What is going on here? Mr. Dion DiPoochy was in charge of the house in my absence.
He looks innocent enough.

But this dog has a checkered past. In his younger days, he ate everything from glass Christmas ornaments, to Barbie heads, to half a Birthday Cake, to an entire bag of pink "peep" rabbits, to a long length of thick string that was -- shall we say -- ultimately disposed of in a most interesting way.

What would a mere bagel be to a gourmand of this caliber?

Here, without further ado, is Dion's Tablescape. . . .

Note the restrained use of Kosher salt, the creative use of scattered dog hair:

The artful crumpling of the Kraft paper:

Note also what is missing: the bagel.

We all know where that is.
But it's too dark in there to get a good picture.

So, how did Dion get the bag off the kitchen counter?

We suspect he can levitate, but he probably climbed up on the back of the love seat and onto the ledge of the counter, stepped over the board (see below) that we put up to discourage escapades such as this, and picked up the bag -- returning to the love seat for his feast.

Dion, I'm afraid it's the crate again for you when we are not home!

For real Tablescapes, done by actual people with opposable thumbs, please click here and visit Susan, our hostess at Between Naps On The Porch.

I apologize for the silliness of this post, but it actually cheered me up on a day that I am a little bit sad, although trying not to be.

Dogs are fun, and so are daughters. Alida and I talked ourselves hoarse while she was home:(I tried to crop out my cleavage but it would have chopped off Alida's chin.)

And now I look forward to picking Anne up at Kennedy Airport on Monday, upon her return from Guam.

Happy Thursday! -- Cass