Burgled Butter

This Never Happens With Margarine...

Hammer's got a funny tale posted about a butter thievin' dog.

Reminds me of an incident when I was probably no more than 5 years old, living in Dallas. Somewhere along my short timeline I'd picked up a craving for saltines & butter. This might have been a restaurant-acquired habit. Back in the day most sit-down cloth napkin eateries had a basket of crackers on the table, and usually had a plate of wrapped butter pats or tubs.

A good way to keep a squirmy kid occupied is to give him something to gnaw on, so I probably tore through uncounted cracker packets while waiting for my kid's meal to be delivered. I'd usually get two or three butter pats, not nearly enough, in my worldly 5 year old opinion.

One day at the house I had this bright idea to get all the butter I wanted. I waited until Mom was next door at Aunt Toadie's house, then crept into the kitchen and heisted an entire stick of butter.

I remember dashing back to my bedroom, getting the thing unwrapped, and realizing it was melting in my hands and starting to drip on my blue rib-cord bedspread. Uh oh. Not good... Well, let's get to eating!

I kinda wish someone had taken my picture two seconds after that first big bite. The look of horrific disappointment mixed with nauseous despair must have been priceless. Let's put it this way, there was no second big bite...

Not knowing what to do, I managed to gag down about a tablespoon of butter, and get the rest re-wrapped (sort of...) in the foiled paper. What to do with the remainder? Can't go in the bedroom trashcan, Mom will find it. Oh, no! She's coming in the front door! WhatAmIGonnaDo??

So, I stuffed it under the bed. I can only assume Mom found it at some point. We were between dogs then, so no canine to the rescue.

I'd like to say that the incident taught me to use butter sparingly, but if you've seen me cook Hog Rotten 'Taters you know that's not the case...