When Aesop wrote -
'We hang the petty thieves and appoint the great ones to public office'
... he didn't make allowance for the thief that jumped ship first. Or the one who stabbed other thieves in the back. What happens to them? The one that jumped ship could come back. Some time in the distant future. And be great in public office. The back stabber will be hung. Out to dry.
What of other thieves and thievery in general?
Thievery - definition: the act of pilfering, stealing or helping oneself to someone else's property.
'Stealing is a crime and a very impolite thing to do. But like most impolite things, it is excusable under certain circumstances.' So says the writer Lemony Snicket.
Bertie Baggins is looking for those certain circumstances. He is in a semi-permanent state of hunting for them; his mission to seek and find and present the certainty of the excusability of those circumstances to me. It would be a permanent state if this four legged thief never slept.
Here he is, yesterday -
"Hi, BB here. Mmmm, I love strawberries. Hmmm - a strategy is needed to get some of those without bringing the wrath of the chief gardener tumbling down on top of me; she'd bury me beneath a ton of shame faster than I could say 'I'm only testing them to check that the rain hasn't made them all squishy and see if they'd make good jam.' I'll try manners first ...'
'Pleeeeeeease; can I have one? If I look particularly handsome, pretend to ignore them and do the good-boy-sit, then can I have one? Just one. A little one would be fine. Pleeeease.'
Harrumph! Not even one! I'd have eaten the one pre-chewed by the mouse? Harrumph again. Okay ... time for a bit of canine cunning ... not having one is fine. Yes, just fine! I'll ... um ... stay here. While you go and wash the smell of mouse off them. They smell of rabbit too by the way. Um ... I'll guard the rest for you! Take as long as you like. Washing away 'odeurrr-du-mice' takes a long, long, very, very long time; lots of scrubbing, lots and lots of minutes. I'll keep an eye or two eyes, and a snout and lips and a tongue on the rest. They're safe with me - absolutely! I'll guard them. Like this - until you've gone.
Gone?
Oh, bother - you've come back! No no no! I'm still guarding them!
Yes! I'm a lot closer to them. I am. It's tiring work marching up and down, you know. Doing the guarding thing. What?! My front paws are not ... ooph ... if I shuffle back ... just a ... little ... not on the strawberry patch.
I ... I didn't think you could see me behind this spade.
Off you go. Now. You can trust me.
Oh dear, you're back again but as you can see I'm still waiting ... oops! ... guarding GUARDING! Guarding them. No, I'm not waiting for anything. No, I can't go to sleep - I might miss the mouse. Or the rabbits. I might miss you, going off to actually do some gardening, instead of watching me watching the strawberries (which in this picture are about two feet - I'm thinking I'll go all imperial since we've left Europe - behind my bottom).
Yes! Off you go. Planting up pots. Marigold splash. Yes; nice and busy. Busy, busy, busy not watching me... !
Dang! Why do you keep coming back? You can't see me. Can you?
Dang! And Bother! And fu-doodle-cakes, as Littlest would say.
How can you see me? Humans must have special dog-catching eyes, that can see over tall things like this. Maybe I don't suit green. Does it clash with my coat? Is that how you can see me?
Where's my uncle? Four-legged-friend has kept a low profile all afternoon. Suspiciously low if you ask me.
Why don't you go? See what he's doing, instead of spying on me.
Hah! Got one ...
Dang!... Caught!
But I'm forgiven. And I didn't have to hunt down any special circumstances. My uncle found enough circumstances for me and almost enough for him. I stole one strawberry. While he ripped all the strawberries, red and green, off the new plants, newly put into new pots, intended for easy breakfast pickings outside the back door.'
Back to my voice now.
Thank you for that, Bertie Baggins. You are forgiven. This time.
The King of thievery -
Four-legged-friend is a special type of thief; an artist of theft. As Terry Pratchett said of master thieves -
"Other thieves stole everything that was not nailed down, but this thief stole the nails as well."
Four-legged-friend stole the ripe fruit, unripe fruit, flowers and stems. And he steals my heart away every time I look at him. How could I be cross with those eyes? I can't punish him. I put the temptation in his path. And I know that if I don't move it or make it labrador-proof, he'll do it again. When it grows back.
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