I often wonder about people who work at places where temptation is inherent: the Mint, say--all that money flying by all day long. It's hard to imagine ignoring it forever. I'd love to think I'd be able to keep my hands off the stacks of hundreds, but could I, really, or would the temptation become too much? "Just a couple.. thousand... dollars," I might think, reaching for the stacks. Sad as it is, the threat of punishment might be the only thing that would stop me, on that far off day in the future, when I've become (through an imagined set of coincidences too dull to describe here) a worker on the assembly line at the Mint. See, I don't even know if there is an assembly line, I don't really see what there is to assemble, but my ignorance and inability to resist temptation having been revealed, I'll move on.

I'm fortunate in that I don't have to take a job where there's a potential for my own ruin. I have options that keep me safe from myself. That is not the case for all of us, and by way of example, I'll tell you the poignant tale of one Barney, entrusted with guarding a London children's museum filled with valuable stuffed animals.

Barney, who happens to be a Doberman pinscher, lost control while on guard duty at the museum the other night, and went on what MSNBC termed a "stuffed-animal rampage." According to the report, he ripped open hundreds of toys, including a teddy bear valued at $75,000 that had once belonged to Elvis Presley. Barney had to be chased around for "several minutes" until he could be wrestled to the ground. Here's a picture of the aftermath: (See illustration)

ILLUSTRATION

Poor, chagrined Barney! My brother, who sent me the article, wrote, "You can picture him 'working' there for awhile until the urge was just too overpowering." I can picture it. At first, he'd ignore the stuffed animals. A disciplined guard dog, concentrating on patrolling the perimeter. But something set him off. Maybe it was the gleam in the button eye of a Steiff lion. I can imagine the moment Barney snapped, springing into the air in a sleek arc, ripping open a plushy throat and sending up a spray of cotton batting. I wish there was film of it.

The owner of the Elvis teddy bear was "not very pleased at all," according to a spokesman from the museum, and I can understand his point of view, but still: it is a pretty excellent story and a good object lesson about the thin veneer of civility that keeps us from chaos.

Oh, Barney. I hope you had fun.

Star of the day. . .Mrs. Dextrose-Chesapeake