Bear was a little grey poodle - as you know, one of my least favourite dogs - that Kelly insisted on having in the apartment. Bear always crapped on the floor. Kelly and I worked and studied all the time, and often stayed out all night, so it wasn't really Bear's fault that no one was around to walk him. Thank goodness he only weighed 3.5 kilos. It was relatively simple to clean up after him. But it was nonetheless a nuisance.

One night I finally decided I'd had enough of Bear. I decided to make my sister pay for bringing him to live with us.

It was December and while we were at work, Bear had again relieved himself in the apartment. I came home first and could smell it but could not find it. I searched for half and hour, then gave up and plotted my revenge. I took two Space Food Sticks out of the pantry and as I watched TV and wondered where the dog had buried his treasure, I kneaded the Space Food Sticks into a familiar shape. (I'm good at this.) I put a little bend on it and a little taper at one end, and then I put it on the floor next to the couch.

I waited until Kel came in. She went straight to the fridge for a Coke and scratched her bum. When she walked into the living room, her nose crinkled at the smell and I said, "Oh God, Bear messed on the floor again!"

She got down on her hands and knees and started searching. I pretended to look around, too. Suddenly I said, "Here it is."

Kelly dropped her Coke and ran to the bathroom. The sounds she made let me know that my mission had been accomplished.