When I was a child, we got a Scottish Terrier pup. At the time, frozen cream cakes had just come onto the market and were considered a luxury item and quite expensive.
Relatives were coming to tea and my mum took the frozen cake out of the (tiny!) freezer (we were the first 'ordinary' people in the village to have a freezer, after the butcher and the fishmonger) and placed it on a plate in the middle of the dining room table to thaw out. Dougal was still a tiny puppy and all the chairs were tucked well under the table so there was no way up for him. Heck he was so small that he had to be lifted onto the old armchair that was his designated 'bed' in the scullery.
Well you can guess what happened. After working in the kitchen for a few hours, baking, cutting sandwiches etc, mum went into the dining room to be greeted with the remains of cream cake spread over the table. She stepped into the scullery, and saw Dougal sitting innocently in front of his bed, waiting to be lifted up onto it. He turned to look at her, with his black beard and eyebrows thickly smeared with snow-white cream!
