So Anne came home from work one evening to find that the tray in the bottom of her parrot's cage had been removed, stripped of its contents (i.e. newspaper, bird poop and birdseed), and left on the floor of her room.

Common sense quickly ruled out her mother as the culprit, leaving the only obvious offenders -- their two dogs. (No, Anne does not live with her mother; her mother lives with her. And they each have a dog. End of any relevant back-story.)

The ensuing argument started with, "Well, it wasn't my dog!"

Continued with, "Dallas would only do it if coerced by Shadow!"

And ended with, "Oh yeah? Well, we'll just see whose dog throws up!"

The lucky winner of the birdseed-barf? Anne. I mean, duh. There's no way her Mom's dog could have reached the tray, and yet, such is her faith in her dog that it took vomit to convince her otherwise.

Now that's devotion.