I had just left to go over to a friend's place, and turned around to come back before I'd even left the apartment complex because I remembered that I'd left the coffee-maker on. Ran upstairs, and found that my dog had ALREADY gotten into the kitchen. He found the most recent bag of dog treats I'd purchased for him and was busy helping himself. (Better that than chocolate.)
Well, at least he's a go-getter. Or something.
This time I caught him before he'd feasted, but soon enough into it for him to feel guilty. He's on the couch in submissive mode as I type this.
Anyhow, I'm off again, now that I'm certain I'm not going to burn down the apartment while I'm away.