The bitten sausage

Years ago I was dating a man who had a sausage factory. The building, office and factory, were behind his home.

 

I often left my Japanese chin Albert with him because Albert could wander the property and had people around while I worked all day.

One night when I went to retrieve Albert, my friend was laughing. "You'll never guess what Albert did."

He led me to the factory where the sausages were smoking. On the bottom row, there was a bite taken out of every sausage on the that row.

"Albert came in and helped himself to lunch," my friend said.

That my dog had ruined many Swiss Francs of product didn't seem to bother my friend. However, precautions were taken in the future to stop Albert from wandering into the smoke room again.