Why do dogs choose paper sacks, tissues, socks, and empty water bottles over rubber chickens, pork skin bones, ropes, and squeaky balls? Is there really a valid answer to that question? My dog is going insane. Every night between 7 and 8:30, he runs wild and rampant around the apartment like a lunatic, bolting back and forth, under and over furniture, crashing into door frames and coffee tables like a crazy person. Then he grabs everything in his path that isn’t his.
The toys available to him are endless. I have a squeaking stuffed pheasant, a squeaking tennis ball, a rubber ball, a holey rubber ball, a snorting hedgehog, a steak flavored rope (yeah, they make those), a rubber Kong bone with treats in it, a Pork Chomp bone, AND a squeaking rubber chicken for him to chew on and destroy as much as his little heart desires. He still insists on snatching up paper, plastic sacks, and dirty socks and bras to parade around the apartment with.
I gave up. I cut up an old t-shirt and stuffed it with treats. He’s more focused than an over-achiever taking the ACTs. Unbelievable.
My mother sent Trent a large tupperware container filled with delicious brownies, and another large tupperware container filled with mouth-watering 7-layer cookies in celebration of his upcoming birthday. The only problem with this is that I am going to be eating delicious brownies and mouth-watering 7-layer cookies for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the next eight days. Time to bust out the maternity pants.
Just kidding, I don’t own any of those.
And I won’t. Ever.
……Uh oh, I smell an “I Would Rather” list coming on. Maybe next time.
Speaking of the “I would rather” lists, I am open to suggestions for the next one. Feel free to ask me what I would rather do than x, y, or z. But not literally x, y, or z, because I don’t know what it means to do “letters.” Don’t even go there. I don’t have time.
I have survived for four entire months without television or a microwave. Can you believe it? Ripley is even shaking his head. How did I do it? Well kids, the answer is an honest day’s work and a little elbow grease. Or maybe that’s something else. I don’t remember.
Well, I’m out like a trout at a vegetarian dinner.
…that was pushing it.
“Geez, he ate his poop again. His face smells like shit.”