It Must Be A Breed Thing

This morning I tried out a new whole wheat bread recipe that I saw in my Mother Earth News magazine. The recipe comes from Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day by Jeff Hertzberg and Zoë Francois, and was featured in the magazine. The dough sat in the refrigerator over night and was ready for a section to be cut off and baked today. The bread rested, cooked and then sat on a cooling rack in the middle of my extra large, square kitchen island.

While it cooled, I decided to take a minute to read an article online. Not long later I heard a noise in the other room. Assuming it was the kids playing, I continued reading my article for a minute or so more, only to continue hearing this strange sound.

As I came around the corner of the island, I found an oversized, shaggy white thing devouring my newly baked loaf. My response…GRRRRRRR! Lincoln dropped the bread and ran outside to devour the piece he still had in his mouth.

As you can see, he did a number on the loaf. And yes, that is a piece of grass he had brought in with him from outside. I decided to cut the loaf open before throwing it away, and it looks like it should be a nice, sandwich bread.









Our first Great Pyrenees would do that same thing. He used to steal Amish Friendship bread off the counter when we lived in Washington. It would never fail. One batch would make two loaves and he almost always got away with one of them. That combined with just about anything else he wanted from the counter (we had a really shallow counter top). Ekimo and the cat would some times tag team the mission. DC would jump up and knock things off the counter that he wasn't able reach. He would then tear it open so that the two of them could munch. I can't count the number of bags of bread and buns I had to throw away because they had been demolished by the tag-teaming duo. DC is a bit older now, and somewhat selfish. You'd be hard pressed to find her teaming up with either of the dogs at this point. I wonder if Lincoln will be so kind as to share his next treasure with Chester, the eleven pound terrier mix. I'm sure he'd really appreciate it.

I guess it doesn’t matter where food is kept on the counter…nothing will stop a Great Pyrenees from their prize.

But really, who could stay mad at a face like that?