Adventures

Some moments in life feel like crossover episodes.
This one was Toby’s.

We were visiting Stephanie’s dad and his spouse, in their quiet home filled with warm lighting, old family photos, and the kind of calm only lived-in spaces have. Everything was peaceful, familiar, predictable.

Until the cat walked in.

To really appreciate what happened next, you need to understand one thing.
Toby had seen many animals in his life. Birds. Squirrels. Other dogs. Even the occasional rabbit he desperately wanted to befriend.

But he had never seen a hairless cat.

The moment this smooth, pinkish, elegant creature turned the corner, Toby froze. His tail stopped mid-wag. His head tilted in that classic “loading… please wait” poodle way. You could almost hear the gears turning inside his brain.

I swear he was thinking,
What in the name of dog treats is that thing?

The cat blinked at him with royal indifference, completely unimpressed by this tall, fluffy creature blocking the hallway. But Toby’s curiosity was stronger than his manners. He took a slow step toward the cat. Then another. He sniffed the air like he was studying a rare and mysterious specimen.

Amira, who was watching all of this from beside us, burst into delighted giggles.
She had never seen Toby so confused.
To her, this was pure entertainment.

And then it happened.

Toby decided to investigate the only way he knew how.

He tried to lick the cat.

Not a cautious sniff. Not a polite hello.
No. Toby went straight for the full taste-test approach.

The cat, who absolutely did not consent to being sampled, jumped back with a shocked chirp that could only be translated to,
Sir, this is unacceptable.

Amira laughed even harder.
She clapped her hands and pointed, thrilled by the unexpected chaos unfolding in front of her.

Toby, however, was on a mission. He tried again. And again the cat retreated, now visibly offended by the audacity of this fluffy intruder. The expression on its tiny, hairless face was a perfect mix of disgust, confusion, and existential crisis.

To Toby, this warm, wrinkly creature was interesting enough to lick.
To the cat, Toby was a giant, over-friendly tongue with legs.
To Amira, this was the funniest thing she had ever seen.

After a few more enthusiastic attempts and several dramatic feline protests, we stepped in. Toby looked up at us like,
But I need one more taste. For scientific purposes.

The cat fled to the tallest piece of furniture it could find, glaring down like a tiny, bald monarch who had narrowly escaped being taste-tested. Toby sat below, tail thumping, eyes wide with fascination, still trying to understand what in the world he had just encountered.

Amira kept giggling, repeating “Toby silly!” over and over, as if she had just witnessed the greatest comedy skit of her young life.

Eventually everyone settled, but Toby never stopped sneaking curious glances at the cat.
And honestly, who could blame him?

Looking back, it remains one of my favourite memories.
Toby’s curiosity. Amira’s innocence. The cat’s complete outrage.
All wrapped into one perfect moment of chaos and laughter.

Classic Toby.

Every family has moments that define their daily chaos. Ours often revolved around a black standard poodle with more intelligence than the garbage bin was ever designed to handle.

This particular episode took place on an ordinary afternoon, the kind where both of us were at work, convinced that the house was quiet and uneventful. Out of habit, we opened the home security camera to check in.

And there he was.

Toby, standing in the middle of the kitchen with the focus of a seasoned professional. The target had already been identified. The operation was clearly underway. The kitchen garbage bin held leftover chicken, and in Toby’s mind there was absolutely no universe where chicken belonged anywhere except in his stomach.

The footage shows him approaching the bin with quiet determination. One practiced nudge of the lid. A confident dip of the head. And then, victory. He emerged with a piece of chicken held proudly in his mouth, completely unaware that he had just been caught in perfect, cinematic clarity.

We watched the entire thing live.

There was the usual mix of disbelief, frustration, and the familiar resignation of two humans who knew this was not Toby’s first poultry-related crime. He had long ago mastered the art of garbage infiltration. No amount of sighing, scolding, or upgraded bins ever seemed to slow him down. If anything, each upgrade was merely a new engineering challenge for him to study and surpass.

No damage was reported, aside from the garbage bin’s dignity, which suffered yet another defeat.

Toby, for his part, never showed an ounce of remorse. Not that day, not the next, not ever. In his world, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was simply claiming what he believed had always been rightfully his.

Looking back, this episode captures something essential about him. His cleverness. His confidence. His complete lack of shame. And his ability to make us laugh, even when we tried not to.

It was never really about the chicken.
It was about Toby being Toby.

And in our home, that was more than enough.