Welcome to another edition of destruction a la dog. She’s a year old now. In other words, she’s an adult in doggie years and old enough to behave properly. Does she? My word, no.
First, her one year glamour shots:
Her majesty, on her one year birth anniversary. I assure you, her foot is not this big:
My roommate has taken to calling her The Hound of Entropy because she destroys everything she touches. The damage may not be visible nor even immediate, but everything she touches will go eventually. She is a daily reminder of our impermanence on this plane of existence. Now, bring on the destruction.
If you’ve read parts 1 and 2, you know that my dog has a thing for slippers. Most dogs do. She destroyed all of mine so I was forced to wear some ugly ass Ugg boots as slippers. Well, she destroyed those, too. One has no sole at all and she’s still working on the other. I had to go out and buy yet another pair of slippers. Total pairs of slippers I’ve purchased now: 5.
Another Laptop Charger.
This makes three. My laptop was plugged in, yet somehow dead. I investigated the cord and found that it was shredded. I had to make do by wrapping the hell out of it with electrical tape and holding the cord a certain way until the new one arrived. If I moved the laptop off the table, it died, which kind of defeats the entire purpose of a laptop.
The other morning, I was lazing in bed, emphatically hitting all of my snooze buttons when the dog decided it was time to wake up. She climbed on top of me and poked me in the eyeball with her toenail. Ouch. Red, watery, stingy ouch. I almost wasn’t sure whether I was going to be able to go to work. I thought maybe she scratched my cornea. I wore my glasses, the ones she chewed, for the next two days and it seems to be fine now. I hate wearing my glasses to work because staring at a computer eight hours a day in them tends to give me a mighty headache. Plus, the bridge of my nose hurts from burdening an unexpected weight for two days.
Sleep – All Of It – Forever.
If you read this blog, you know I’m an insomniac. Anyway, you know now. This week in particular, I’ve averaged roughly 2-4 hours a night. That’s bad. That’s really bad, even for me. I’ve been loopy all week, unable to focus or concentrate and staring into space a lot. Well, every night this week, right around 1 or 2 in the morning, right when I’m finally drifting off, the dog decides it’s time to eat the cat. And by eat the cat, I mean put the cat’s entire head in her mouth while he puts up the most trifling effort to release himself from the jaws of entropy. And by effort, I mean groan and growl a little bit. He doesn’t even move most of the time. I have to bodily pull the dog off so that he has a chance to run, which he rarely does. Most of the time, when I’m grappling with the dog, he just lies there. I have to push him to get him to retreat to a safe place. The cat likes sleeping at about shoulder level on the bed, so, this usually transpires right the hell next to me. You’d have to be dead to sleep through it. Good morning! It’s time for your 2am cat growl!
Whatever this was.
This is just one of the many items I’ve found eviscerated and strewn about carelessly in the backyard. I think it might have been a roll of paper towel, but we’re still waiting for the autopsy results.
3 out of 4 Trees.
My roommate planted four dwarf fruit tree saplings in the backyard. In part 2, I discussed how the dog dug up the pomegranate tree and I wasn’t sure whether it would survive. Well, strangely, the pomegranate tree is the healthiest one. It’s even begun to fruit its tiny little fruits. The other three, unfortunately, haven’t fared quite so well. Two are still in the ground where they belong, but one is dug up entirely:
And the other two are making a valiant effort at staying planted and alive:
My makeshift rabbit fences were not enough to hinder the dog in her quest for sticks. To her, they are not trees that would someday bear delicious fruit. They are simply where the sticks grow and my dog loves sticks.
Speaking of sticks…
I clean her lounger off regularly, but it still ends up looking like this. The lounger is no longer the place where lounging happens; It is where trees go to die.
The Camera On my Phone.
Notice that the last few pictures have been blurry? Well, that’s because my phone camera lens is all scratched up. I think she’s trying to make it harder to capture the evidence. The rest of the phone still works fine.
Since we’re on part three, I thought I’d start a spreadsheet to keep track. I wish I hadn’t. Now all of her destruction is laid out in one handy reference chart.
Depressing, isn’t it? Although, really, the dollar amount isn’t as high as I would have expected.
I leave you with this: