When I was a kid, my parents used to watch tennis on TV. Every time someone dropped a tennis ball, the ball boy would run out and scoop the ball up in one fluid motion.
Today I was dicing a cooked red potato to fry up with some sausages, and whatever was on the knife--about three pieces-- fell off onto the floor. I usually pick up what little I drop before the dogs can get to it, but Zoey rand out just like a ball boy and scooped up the potatoes and fled in the scene in one fluid motion. Even the other three dogs sat there frozen for a second in surprise.
Her papa, Lenny, could eat potatoes, but Spot can't, and so all the offspring of spot don't tolerate potatoes well. I will be surprised if those pieces make it all the way through her without incident. The puppies tolerate fried potatoes like fries and my Potatoes O'Brien, but that the tiny ball boy had other plans.