Juno loves his treats.
But at a time and place of his choosing.

So like a connoisseur of fine cheeses, he prefers to cellar them for a while. You know, to let them mature. To let them ripen.

Most times we give him something nice to chew on, after a quick perfunctory sniff over, off he trots to bury it in some secret place in our back garden. Under a bush or, behind a pot, or in some secluded slug infested shadowy crawlspace.

He does this a lot. In fact we think he has accumulated quite a haul. Stashed away out there. Somewhere.

And not just food. With the skills of a canine Ninja, he has evaded both Kelly and my own frantic attempts to stop him from spearing through his doggie-door, a sock or a bra, or some underpants, flapping out from between his jaws like tiny flailing spinnakers.

Last month he even managed to wrangle his way out the door with a pair of Kelly’s brand new trousers.
We still have not found them.

And then. Eventually. At that particular time of his choosing, (usually after heavy rain, and probably when we have guests, or are not at home) something triggers in his tiny Juno mind… and it’s time to zip out and dig up a particular morsel.

Hmm…that reminds me. I think that April 11th pigs ear behind the BBQ is probably in an excellent aromatic state about now…..Ill just pop out and recover it.

By now these things are usually covered in mud, and they are soggy, and mouldy, and stink like a god-forsaken lump of decomposed awfulness.

Once inside, with the flourish of a canine turophile, Juno will unbox the moment. Proudly placing his prize in the centre of the room and then proceeding to throw it around and smear it, and roll over on top of it, and generally flail about in a messy gastronomic ecstasy.

Once happy he has squeezed every last drop of stinky joy out of the moment, he will wipe all the excess detritus off onto the carpet, or the couch or the guests pants …and then chew it thoughtfully as one would an expensive Camembert cheese.