We returned from a fabulous Hawaiian holiday and bailed out his sorry butt picked Sam up a few days ago and all 3 of us are trying to get our Mile High legs back. The weather has been mild, the garden coming to life and we’re slowly easing back into old routines. Including some of the bad ones apparently.
It seems that our boy Sam is the least discriminating dog on the planet. He has successfully christened Wayne into the family by the same intractable behavior he assured me was ancient history.
We were enjoying a lovely meal Sunday evening and all of a sudden, there was some bizarre crunching sound. OH GOD, nooooo…I am way too familiar with that noise (first comes an eery silence, then a weird smacking/chewing sound and as your brain is trying to wrap your head around it and then finally the oh-too-familiar realization that the tearing, munching sound you’re hearing is your worst nightmare and will soon greet you once you find that idiot dog). Immediately running into the guest bedroom where Mr. I’m-So-Proud-of-Myself had managed to eviscerate the lining and corner of a small leather portfolio that belonged to Wayne’s grandfather. ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!!?!?!?! He’s gone and done it again! I can’t believe that stupid knucklehead dog went in that room, sniffed out said portfolio on top of the bed and then proceeded to pull it down to chew the living corner out of it. Gah!!!!!
Does anyone else notice the lack of remorse on the miscreant’s face?
I can’t decide whether to be pixed at him for the misdeed and shifting his attention away from my stuff or, grateful I’m no longer the target of these antics. Either way, I’m sorry Wayne is now part of the victim’s club a member of the same group as I’ve been…that of undeserved canine attacks on sentimental leather items…also known as fair game on the uprights stuff when they leave me in dog prison. That or he likes him better. With this hound, you just never can tell. All I can say is we both need to be diligent about this little pill of a monster…that and keep all valuables put completely away from inquiring noses. And here I thought I was finished raising kids. Apparently not.
It seems as though ‘dear, sweet’ Sam is going through some sort of regressive mental state again. A couple of nights ago I heard a faint but odd noise but after a long day of listening to people babbling about nothing and the usual sounds of a city, I didn’t think too much about it. You know how it is–your mind is on auto-pilot and you kind of turn it off as just part of the mundane noises of life. At first I thought it was something going on in the neighbor’s yard. But it persisted and it got louder.
What in the bloody-blue-blazes was that noise?! Grr–it was driving me crazy. When I pinpointed where that sound was coming from, this is what I found…Sam standing near my beloved GoldPfeil and freshly assassinated wallet. It was especially treasured by me because (1) it was made in Offenbach, Germany, a suburb near my hometown, Frankfurt and (2) it was a very expensive gift from my son when he first started working at a luxury leather shop as a young man, many years ago. It was such a beautiful wallet, so soft and sumptuous, small but well-organized and beautifully worn with a whole history with me. I had planned to switch it out that evening and had left it on the guest bed in the morning and was going through the mail after I got home (I know my bad).
And a very contrite looking face was standing near the remains. Sam knew he was in trouble the second I asked him “what the [blank] did you do?” He dropped his head and immediately left the room. Crestfallen, I mumbled something like “oh god, where did I go wrong?” or something to that effect with a few more expletives thrown in there as happens often with this silly dog.
At 9 years old it seems inconceivably weird that Sam has regressed back to being a 3 month old puppy trying to relieve tender gums from teething. I don’t know what it is, but he has this absolute love affair with murdering soft buttery and beloved leather items. This latest incident was not a first though. He’s chewed up a black clutch I’d had for eons, an equally loved day-timer case as well as a few more notables. All in the past couple of years.
What’s a poor fur-mum to do? Has your pupster destroyed something in his later years? Any suggestions short of not ever reading the mail again out of sight of that stupid dog??!! 😉