When Mike and I had been married (the first time) only a few months, he came home one day with a small, black, curly, ball of fur -- a poodle puppy. We named him Plunk's Pepper Pot and he grew into a good companion and, fortunately, a very un-poodle poodle.
Ab0ut a year later, during the Christmas season, Mike and I left the house one evening to go to a party. Pepper decided to have his own party.
When we left, there was a two-pound box of chocolates --with lid firmly secured -- on an end table. The first thing we noticed upon returning, was the box on the floor, lid off -- candy scattered about, but mostly missing. It appeared that some of the candy papers must be missing as well. I went to the kitchen looking for Pepper and discovered that his water bowl was completely empty. Then we found Pepper. He was sitting on his butt like a little person, leaning back into a corner and being held up by the convergence of those two walls. His little belly was fully distended and he looked miserable. I don't know that we actually heard him groan, but if he'd known how, that's what he would have been doing.
The little fool had decided to have some candy and had consumed most of the box's contents, papers included. He was miserable for the night, but recovered nicely.
And that's how I felt last night after Mike and I deliciously sampled our way through the Taste of DeSoto. Over-eating is fun, but I need to stop short of imitating Pepper Pot.