Guilty

Husby and I are empty nesters.
It's a fairly new experience. One that we are enjoying immensely. Maybe because we get all the perks (quiet evenings) with all the blessings (grandkids over daily).
But what we didn't have was a four-footed furry.
Maybe I should explain...
For over thirty years, we raised Old English Sheepdogs. We love the breed. Smart, loyal, protective, easily trained.
And highly amusing.
When our last puppy bid us farewell and crossed the rainbow bridge two years ago, we decided our 'furry' days were over.
We were truly empty nesters.
Then, back in March, our friends got a puppy. An OES cross.
And quite suddenly I knew my own dog days weren't done.
A week later, I was the proud owner of the newest generation of Old English Sheepdog.
Her name is Pandora, but we call her Pandy. Among other things...
Ahem...
She is everything we've come to love about the breed.
And has settled into her own little corner of my heart.
Enough background...
Yesterday, Husby and I were in the family room, watching the movie 'Dragonslayer'. I was multi-tasking in that I was also working on a puzzle.
Pandy was rousting around, nose to the carpet.
A habit of hers, I must admit.
She rousted herself into Daddy's office.
Now, normally, this isn't cause for concern as usually, Daddy is in there with her.
This time, he wasn't. (See above.)
I allowed the normal amount of time necessary to wander into the room, realize that your beloved person is not there and wander out again.
That time had elapsed.
"Pandy!" I called.
She came out immediately.
But the reason for her tardiness became immediately-and painfully-apparent.
And yes, that's an Eat-More bar wrapper stuck to someone's furry face.
I've heard of wearing your guilt.
But never quite this accurately.