As I was reading, I felt a familiar tug and looked down to find Clara pulling up on the keyboard tray. Her mouth was ringed with a mysterious crusty brown substance. Flashing back to recent incidents my heart started beating double-time. But, before I could even begin to initiate a search she lifted a white salt-shaker like cylinder to her mouth and took a swig. "Cinnamon-Sugar" the label said on the shaker. I had left the pantry door open and Clara was doing shots of cinnamon-sugar from the spice rack in the door.
It's too bad she didn't reach for something like ginger or curry. She would have been cured of her spice rack fascination for good. But no, with an uncanny aptitude for sensing out sweets, she found the one bottle that will that will, no doubt, keep me chasing her out of the pantry for years to come.