This morning I flaked and left Maddy’s crate door open. She was left free to roam the entire apartment unsupervised for six hours straight. I had been enjoying my third generally very good day in a row, but my spirits sank as I reported home for a late lunch and she greeted me enthusiastically at the front door. I let out a moan and cringed in anticipation of the disasters awaiting inside– puddles of pee trickling into furniture legs or soaking into rugs and upholstery, disemboweled pillows, shattered glass, shredded underwear, gnawed linoleum, upturned trash cans, chewed remote controls, shoes, electrical wires, books and CDs…
But she had left everything intact! She’d even held her pee. I was so disbelieving I spent 10 minutes crawling around, squinting, sniffing and feeling about for what I thought to be the inevitable puddle.
So I rewarded her with a vigorous session of wrestling, fetching and dancing, vowed not to press my luck and to latch the crate next time, and resolved to approach our first training class together Monday with optimism instead of anxiety.
Good dog! A close call and lucky lesson! Others are not so fortunate; others have Oscar. When we first adopted Oscar, he managed to push past his kitchen confines into the world of chew toys which did not belong to him. In a short couple of hours, he managed to destroy Lela’s new sandals, my new massage therapy book (literally ATE half of it – I never even had the chance to thoroughly leaf through the whole thing!), a wool sweater, and lovely VS bra, among some other minor items. *sigh* The sandals and book were replaced, the sweater forgotten (one in a sea of sweaters owned by my metrosexual husband), but with two pairs of lovely matching panties I do lament the loss of my irreplacable purple bra. Funny that a lingerie drawer can inspire a cautious reminder to secure one’s animals when leaving the house. Meow! Rarf, rarf!
What is it with the lingerie? Maddy’s a known VS-bra-and-knickers snatcher herself.
Girls, girls, let’s be rational! The canine friends live and die by their sense of smell. They don’t read the labels – they sniff and say, "Yummy! It’s my Mummy!" And snack happily, blissfully ignorant of the matching lingerie in the drawer. In the drawers. Tee hee. Be resigned to their adoration and be glad that homo sapiens adore you in other unique ways.
Canine lingerie destruction: is there a relation between this activity and the phrase "men are dogs"? Seems many a man can show a rowdy enthusiasm for ladies’ negligee.