The large plastic dog-treat container slipped from my hands when I was returning it to the top of the refrigerator. I arrested its fall by trapping it sidewise with my hip against the counter. Its top popped open and mixed dog treats spilled to the wood floor and scattered across the kitchen. It was a religious experience for Cleo and Chelsey. I grabbed the broom and swept and scooped up as many treats as I could but was no match for the girls’ low center of gravity, four legs, and voracity.