Halloween has been gone for a week now but the candy remains.

Picture by Mensatic

All week the kids have been eating their stash of candy – an impressive haul this year. The chocolates are just about gone and we are down to sweet-tarts and lollipops. What remains are the wrappers.

I find them on the floor, under the coffee table and couches. If I am going up the stairs, looking for laundry in the bedrooms or sweeping up in the kitchen – there they are. The bright colors of red, blue, yellow and green were wonderful when they wrapped chocolate lovelies.

The problem is I am not the only one finding the leftovers of a quick snack. So is our lovable dog, Storm.

This is not good.

Dogs should not have chocolate and Storm always feels the after affects of snitched chocolate. The sweet delight wears him out, loosens the stool and makes life unpleasant for him. He lays about more and farts more but none of that stops him

It makes our walks interesting. As I clean up piles I never know what color of wrapping will appear. What also amazes me is that a dog lives through some of the things that they eat. A candy wrapper or punch ball balloon comes out all in one piece.

All of this has lead to edicts of proper clean up whenever snacking occurs. I enforce wrapper sweeps. When I see wrappers, I make everyone take part in the clean up. When everyone has gotten to bed, I find myself resting my hand under the couch and finding a Snickers or M&M package.

I am not the only one. The dog is going on foraging missions behind the couch, under the couch, behind the dining room table and into the pantry. I have to be armed with the water bottle to make him stop.

Storm sitting in a chair, ready for a banquet.

Soon, the Halloween candy will be relegated to one bag of suckers and gumballs. Halloween will give way to the Thanksgiving feast as pumpkins see a better use to be made into pie and other goodies. I will have to be on the lookout for other candy wrappers soon.

While our dog thinks he is human, he has learned how to sit on a chair, he is not allowed to eat from the table. While he tries to find leftovers, the table is his favorite hunting ground. Just because Grandpa likes to feed him tidbits from the table, does not mean he is allowed that privileged year round. 

Should he ever learn to use a fork and spoon, I might relent.

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