This is what could have been the final picture of Tucker before I killed him . . . or he got very, very sick.
Running errands in town one day, I stopped to pick up a prescription at the pharmacy. Expressly so Mr. Curious wouldn't have his interest piqued by it, I put the prescription, sealed inside a bag, down into my winter boot which was on the floor of the back seat.
I made one stop (one!) - for about 5 minutes, 7 minutes tops. When I returned, this is what I saw: Tucker, with the bottle of pills, the end nearly bitten off, settled between his paws . . . and a sweet, innocent look on his face that clearly wondered, "What, Ma?!"