Dog food...in the broiler

Not long ago, I was looking for my pork chop pan to make dinner one night. It wasn't in it's usual spot so I figured my roommate Tom put it in the broiler. I looked and it wasn't there, but what was there was a shit load of dog food, quite the ideal place for such cuisine, right? At first I thought there were only a few scattered pellets that might have been swept under the stove and filtered into the broiler, as is good practice in any bachelor pad. But when I bent down to investigate, I was shocked to see that the entire opening was full of dog pellets, which were mostly jammed all the way to the back from repeated openings and closings of the broiler drawer. I stood dumbstruck for a moment, thinking WTF???? but mostly wondering how Tom's dog, Mac, could have hidden all this dog food over the years? When I slid back the broiler tray, there too was a nice, oddly uniform, layer of pellets resting comfortably in the grease pan below, the middle portion caked with a layer of soot from years of exposure to the pilot light. At that moment, I felt that I was either hallucinating, or in the middle of a Stephen King novel, or both, because it was just so bizarre, unexplainable, and a little too uncanny. I pinched myself (really) and when I was reassured that I was not dead and had not been banished to the land of the surreal, where dogs are capable of more than we could ever fathom, I began to approach the situation logically. There was no denying that this could not be the work of even the most clever canines. Thus, there were really only two logical explanations: either Tom had purposely put the dog food there as a prank (not at all uncommon), which wouldn't be much of a prank because only he would know, or the previous owners of the house had done it. When Tom got home later that night, I showed him the broiler as I had found it, and he too was just as confused as I was. Apparently, the previous owners had dogs, so this must have been their idea of dog food space saving, dog food a la steak, or just something to do on a Saturday night. I'll never know, I suppose, which is okay, I guess, because there are just some things better left alone.