Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Bad dog

Lucy has been very good lately, but she had one of those days yesterday where she just couldn't do anything right.

First, she ate my glasses when we went to the gym. Somehow, we both missed them while we were picking up the living room. An hour later, the case was in pieces all over the place and the glasses themselves were sitting on her bed. I popped the lenses back in and they're only slightly crooked, but I still need a new pair. Both sets of ears have been gnawed on. Not very professional!

Then, while I was getting ready for work, she unrolled the toilet paper from the main floor bathroom. I found her carrying around a huge ball of the tissue paper that you stuff in gift bags.

The final straw--or should I say, stick--came when I got home from work to find that Lucy had obliterated the wooden basket where her toys are kept. About a third of it was scattered in pieces around the living room. She sat quite patiently while I took a picture to document this:


On one hand, I was incredibly ticked off. On the other hand, I'm sympathetic. I've had one of those days where you just can't do anything right. Sometimes, instead of getting mad, I'd just prefer that people give me a break. So that's what I did...after a few "no's" and "bad dog's".

This morning, she was better. (And the basket remnants have been relocated to a room where she does not spend her days.)

2 comments:

Linda said...

It might be a little separation anxiety.

Truman had terrible separation anxiety, but it wasn't consistent. Perhaps there was something outside that was stressing her out? Your papazon (sp?) could have been a nice treat/target.

After Truman darn near chewed through two of the legs on one of our dining room chairs, he goes in his crate when we aren't home.

Sometimes, you just don't want to risk it.

Ellen Davis said...

Oh, she hates to be left alone, but she hates being in her crate even more. And giving her reign of one room means she can let herself out of the house, which is good on the nights we're home late.

Fortunately, Lucy has never tackled furniture. I don't think she's even considered eating the dining room table (though I imagine you didn't ever imagine Truman would do that, either!).