Somebody ate the oven gloves

Me: Morning Thoughts are late today. Is it because the clocks have gone forward?

Nell: No. This has nothing to do with clocks and it is not Morning Thoughts.

Me: It looks rather serious.

Nell: It is. Somebody has eaten the oven gloves.

Me: Oh dear. You don’t think they could have just worn out over time?

Nell: There are signs of biting and tearing.

Me: Has anyone confessed yet?

Nell: Harriet is refusing to answer and David has put his head under the table.

Me: Maybe he is just tired.

Nell: He is hiding behind Kev’s legs.

Me: My darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: Normally I would blame Harriet as she is a serial chewer but in this case I am afraid evidence is pointing towards David.

Me: Why?

Nell: Poppy admitted that during the cooking of yesterday’s roast beef she may have inadvertently got beef juices on the oven gloves.

Me: Dave loves roast beef. It is right up there with bacon.

Nell: Yes, it is. Now, I am willing to accept that this may have started out as vigorous licking but it definitely proceeded to chewing.

Me: What are you going to do?

Nell: I’m afraid neither of the puppies will be having roast beef sandwiches for lunch.

Me: Oh no. You called them puppies, by the way.

Nell: A brief lapse. Where was I?

Me: No roast beef sandwiches.

Nell: Yes. Just plain cheese and no pickle.

Me: They don’t like pickle.

Nell: That’s not the point.

Me: What if one of them confesses?

Nell: Then the other one can have roast beef.

Me: Look, they are calling you. What did they say? Have they both confessed to save the other? Bless them.

Nell: No. They said it was The Cat.

Me: Oh dear. Sorry.

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