Yesterday morning, I tried to pull a fast one. I smuggled a couple of pieces of raisin bread into the toaster, and shortly thereafter turned them into raisin toast. I then hastily consumed them, and (completely out of character for me, I can assure you) rinsed the “evidence” before hiding the plate and the butter knife in the dishwasher.

What I failed to consider, fatally so, was that Mrs. That Dan Guy has the combined olfactory senses of a bat, a cheetah, an anteater, and a canine university-educated bloodhound. Coming down the stairs during a typical morning break in her marathon morning preparation routine, she commented that it smelt (smelled?? I don’t mean to refer to small pickled fish fed to captive penguins) like raisin toast.

As she got closer and closer to the kitchen, she was absolutely convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had indeed consumed raisin toast, our weekend breakfast treat together.

Like a cat with canary feathers protruding from its mouth, I tried to brush the raisin toast crumbs from my housecoat – but alas – I was too late.

Mrs. That Dan Guy is like Murder She Wrote’s Jessica Tandy - a pesky sleuth that can’t keep her hyper-accurate schnozz out of other people’s business…

Was it Jessica Tandy?? Maybe I just should have gone with Columbo…

Chow for now!!