My brother, Tommy, just came in my home office room and
asked me  if I wanted some chocolate chip cookies. I said, "Yes,"
and took two, placing them on the Marilyn Monroe biography
that I just got from the library. When I got back to the office
from making a hot tea with milk in the kitchen there was only
one cookie on top of Marilyn: Dylan had struck and had taken
one of my cookies. Does anyone want a not so good dog?