I knew, knew, knew that difficult child would forget to bring his dinner dishes downstairs. So, I find a wet sock in the hallway near his room and pick it up, then go into the room to find the rest of the clothes that the dogs have goobered up ... and see this huge, black bedspread move on its own. Oh, wait, that's Starbucks, at the end of the bed, crunching something. Oh no! The porkchops! I called him. He came and tried to sneak away, but I made him lie down and told him to drop it. I actually had to pry the bone out of his jaws but he was complacent and never growled (my dogs only do that to me once and they end up in orbit, and he has never done it anyway). I got the bone out and said, "Good boy! Want a treat?" So of course he hops up and the golden retriever, Google, follows as well, so I threw away the pork chop in the kitchen trash and gave them both non-dangerous treats. What a good boy!