Henry ate my @#$%* sandwich

So I started a new job 3 weeks ago. I worked yesterday for the first time. Woke up at 5am and proceeded to go over the power point presentation to the cats...they weren't interested. I guess owning your own business isn't something they aspire to do unlike barfing on my carpet, the only one in the house. I digress. So i eat a small brekkie consisting of a bagel and jam. Last time I spoke in front of a crowd for a french speaking contest they saw the big mac I had for lunch. I sit and wait until 10:30 when I have to leave. I look at the cats, they ignore me.
Let's just skip the part where I do the presentation and say nothing ever goes right the first time you have to speak in front of 300 bored and sweaty smelling teenagers. I then proceed to the library to hopefully await the teens I have inspired. Egads!!! Seven actually show up and we talk for an hour and then they are whisked away by a magical bell that signifies feeding hour and I take off to home to make my own lunch. I am hungry. Me hungry. I can see the sandwich of my dreams in my minds eye.
There is one piece of veggie bologna left, some cherry tomatoes and sprouts, a hunk of nippy cheddar and soft white fluffy bread...mmmm. I make my sandwich and place it on the table just as the phone rings. Said conversation over (can't even remember who it is) turn back to the table. Where is it? Where is my @#$%& sandwich. I flip around and stare at the counter where I have put everything away...or did I? Did I even make the sandwich? That's when I hear the satisfying smlack smhlurp of Henry the Beagle's lips. I lean towards him to smell his breath and he indulges me in one of his most attractive burps...bologna I can smell it.
The dog and I aren't speaking yet, in fact he looks guilty but that's part of the breed. He feels no remorse. I don't know if we can go back to where we were.
I want that sandwich back.