9:56 pm – I walked to the front door, hands full, waved good-bye to my friends and shut the door. My Doberchildren greeted me with yelps of joy, demand barking and pokes to the legs. I had my hands full with jackets, purse, and the waffle cup with melted coffee ice cream that I hadn’t gotten to eat yet. I put everything down somewhere, and opened the back door so the stampeding Doberherd could enjoy the cool air.

The papaya tree rat, I assume, was what caught half the herds interest. It was not a squirrel, so the full posse was not interested in the goings-on of those that surrounded an area and maintained a perimeter until 10 to 15 minutes later when I called everyone into the house. Immediately before that, I was thinking about divvying up that waffle cone to a few deserving Doberchildren.

10:19 pm – I went for my waffle cone, but notice something suspicious when I reached for it. There was no cone. No cone, no yummy liquid ice cream, no paper cup holding it. Huh?

10:20 pm – I searched other places where I may have stashed that cone, but it wasn’t there either. The cone left the planet, took a hike, was no more.

10:21 pm – I looked around me, and wondered. Could one of the innocent faces surrounding me have put paws on stove, pulled cone and all off and eaten it? I thought about it, and decided yes, that could have happened. There are two particular characters amongst the posse toward whom I hold these suspicions.

Suspect #1 – Pippin

Altnames: Pippin Shitz, Pips, Pippinator

Pippin has a grab-and-eat rap sheet a mile long. Her most monumental heist was 16 cooked chicken thighs cooling on a plate in the sink – plucked out and devoured all 16 of them in under 3 minutes. She’s the shortest Doberchild in the household, has a bum front elbow, but neither of those hindrances slow her down. Her drive is bigger than her midget size and her mechanically challenged limb combined. Was seen dodging the nosy noses of several of Fort Doberdale’s finest sinffers shortly after the waffle cone went missing.

Suspect #2 – Raven

Altnames: Little Big Pants, Raving Raven

Raven’s been seen with paws on top of tables, chest freezers, crates, you name it. She’s comfortable walking on tables, flower beds, through papaya trees, and if not for gravity, the ceiling would be her stomping ground. No rap sheet yet on grab-and-eat. Continue to monitor.

Evidence will be collected in the a.m. Most likely, if perp is caught in the act of taking dump, cardboard cup fragments will close this case.

Follow-up then.