According to the lucky stars we live in, part of our job as grandparents is to be grandparents to people's dogs when they leave town. Some of those dogs have even turned out to be permanent ("Gosh, Mom, could you take her. We just don't have room with the baby.") But that's a story for another day. And we LOVE that dog. And the kid who asked us to take her.

Clyde is just a mess. He chews up everything. During his brief weekend stay with us he found four different bags of jellybeans and gum drops (gum drops!!!!) that we had completely forgotten. The gumdrops were Grandpa's spice-flavored ones that he kept in his dressing room under the chair he sits on to change his shoes. Don't ask why they were there, but from the partially chewed candies scattered in the carpet, he tried several flavors and found them wanting.

The jellybeans were left over from Easter and were clearly hidden in a "safe place." However, I have no recollection of where that could have been, only that they too were all over the floor and from the chew patterns, they were not a popular item either. Not like the entire loaves of bread or packages of buns that regularly disappear from the counter when I'm in a hurry. Or definitely not like any sandwich being eaten by a small child in our house.

Note to self: small children must be at least four feet above the ground to eat around dogs. The soundtrack for picnics around here includes squeals of dismay as another sloppy joe bites the dust. Or gets bitten in the dust after it falls to the floor.

Anyway, during his last (and that may be the truth) stay here, Clyde chewed up some new purple jelly shoes and some relatively new green leather sandals belonging to my three-year-old granddaughter. To his credit, he chewed up a matching pair: one right foot green and one left foot purple. The rest of the shoes were scattered in pieces all around the front entrance to the house where we'd dumped the red overnight bag in order to go potty really quick after we drove home from Salt Lake.

That's why it was there. Don't call me stupid unless you want to get in an argument about things that could happen to anyone: like losing your phone or forgetting people's names.

She and I were ticked off. There was lots of commiserating with her, especially about her purple jelly shoes with the big purple jelly flower on the toes.

Then my darling three-year-old granddaughter folded her teeny little three-year-old arms and said, "That damn dog."

Why, yes, I was surprised. To my knowledge, her mommy and daddy do not drive tankers in Alaska or do they carry Skoal's in their rolled up sleeves, places where I would expect gutter language (excuse me if you're a rodeo clown or a long distance hauler.) And I like to think that my swearing days went out with--oh, I don't know, they went slowly but they went. They might be in the same memory pile as people's names.

It was pretty funny, to tell you the truth, and while I didn't laugh at the time, I've laughed hard since.

Then I told her mom and dad. Dad thought it was hilarious; Mom, not so much.

Whoa! Had I betrayed a trust telling her mom and getting her in trouble? Is keeping things secret part of the grandma code? What's the protocol here, what should I do?

Luckily her mom wasn't really too mad and so my granddaughter and I are still friends. But what will I do in the future? It seems too manipulative to decide for someone else's baby just what should be punished and what shouldn't. But then, there's also the fact that I could get in trouble too.

For example, what if we really discussed some of the prohibited items we eat together, like chicken nuggets from McDonald's? How much sharing is too much and how much is not enough? What would you like to know as the parent and what do you feel you should share as a grandparent?

I'd like to know what people think. I'm going to ask around but I hope I'll hear from some of you too.

After all, there may be other grandmas like me. Who knows what kind of criminal mind lurks behind this little wrinkled smiling face?