murphy-slaw's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Choo Hound What the HELL? That's all I can say about the thing that was last night. Actually it was nice at first. Me and the sig checked out this cubin jazz club and ate Miami sammiches and sipped on gallons of sangria. REAL sangria, yo. None of that red syrup-y kool-aid wanna-be shit. Took it as an opp to leave poop-a-saurus out of her crate to see how she�d do with a little unsupervised freedom... Let�s just say she has a bit more work to do in that area� She went through what was, without a doubt, a text book case of separation anxiety. I don�t know if she thought we left forever or what, but something in her doggie brain put together this equation: What actually happened though, was more like this: M plots P�s death Ye GODS. We came home to find a pile of chewed up shoes and a half eaten Long Dog. Long Dog is her favorite toy. She chews on him often, but last night it was apparently time for Long Dog to DIE. The ironic part is, she ate my more expensive shoes and left my Old Navy $5 POS� alone.. Maybe she can taste the quality? We joke that she is a �shoe hound�. Bred to sniff out and eat expensive shoes. If we took her into Nordstrom, she�d make a B-line for the Choos. THEN, to top it off, she bounded in (all 115lbs of her), dove for the couch, perched neatly on top of the pile, and promptly pissed all over both. Sig and I were alternatively horrified and cracking up. There was a lot of "Oh my GOD!" and "What the hell?!" followed by a nice healthy beating and shoving P into her crate for a couple of hours. I am going to think long and hard before I let her taste of sweet sweet freedom again. My checkbook demands it. 3:06 p.m. - 2006-04-26 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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