Ready? Close your eyes. (Okay, so you can't really do that and read, so just pretend.) First, picture a livingroom coffee table. Nothing special, and a little messy with a coffee cup, newspapers, and a book or two scattered upon it. Then picture on that coffee table, a bunch of plastic containers of beads, maybe half a dozen or more, each with, oh, a couple hundred tiny colored beads. For craft projects, that sort of thing.
Then picture a dog. A nice dog. A happy dog. A dog that's rarely shown any indication of being the canine embodiment of the mischievous being from whom he derives his name. If you have trouble picturing such a dog, just scroll down. There are pictures.
Anyway, then picture coming home after a couple hours away to find said dog happily asleep on the couch, but all the plastic containers from the coffee table chewed up and on the floor, with the thousands of colored beads they contained liberally scattered about the living room carpet. The two in-process projects chewed to shreds, with beads and traces of thread spread about on both couches.
Yes, it would have been a good idea not to leave such things within easy reach of a Lab less than one year of age. The thing is, he's never really showed an interest in chewing such things, or anything really, since we've moved up here. We thought we were safe, that he was sufficiently occupied by his own toys, and that the days of ever needing to put him in his crate while we weren't at home were past. At least I did.
Alas, Loki has earned his name. And through carelessness I earned a few hours last night, and again this morning, plucking beads from a thick pile carpet to save as many as possible before resorting to the vacuum cleaner.
Lesson learned.
Then picture a dog. A nice dog. A happy dog. A dog that's rarely shown any indication of being the canine embodiment of the mischievous being from whom he derives his name. If you have trouble picturing such a dog, just scroll down. There are pictures.
Anyway, then picture coming home after a couple hours away to find said dog happily asleep on the couch, but all the plastic containers from the coffee table chewed up and on the floor, with the thousands of colored beads they contained liberally scattered about the living room carpet. The two in-process projects chewed to shreds, with beads and traces of thread spread about on both couches.
Yes, it would have been a good idea not to leave such things within easy reach of a Lab less than one year of age. The thing is, he's never really showed an interest in chewing such things, or anything really, since we've moved up here. We thought we were safe, that he was sufficiently occupied by his own toys, and that the days of ever needing to put him in his crate while we weren't at home were past. At least I did.
Alas, Loki has earned his name. And through carelessness I earned a few hours last night, and again this morning, plucking beads from a thick pile carpet to save as many as possible before resorting to the vacuum cleaner.
Lesson learned.
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2 comments:
My grandson/puppy would do something like that? Are you sure it was him? Mommac
I think Loki needs his own blog.
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