Hazel’s weakness is ham. It’s strange and makes no sense, but one whiff of the stuff and she turns into an animal, pawing at your leg and begging for a piece.

And although ham is her absolute favorite, no meat is completely off limits. One night I cooked some chicken for myself and left a piece out on the counter, forgetting to seal it up in something and put it in the fridge. A couple hours later, I found the half eaten chicken breast laying in the corner of the dining room. Hazel had jumped onto the counter, dragged the chicken to the dining room and had herself a fancy dinner.

The strangest part about all this is that when is comes to food shenanigans, Olive does not partake. I guess once in a while, she has to be the voice of reason. But not very often.