Houdoggie

I took another couple of days off work this Monday and Tuesday.  I felt I was due seeing as I got the flu and contracted bronchitis during the last few days I had off.  I was a total slug on Monday, save for the hour and a half or so I spent at the grocery store.  Autumn was at Carole’s so I was free to roam the clearance racks at will.  It was nice.

When I got home I was greeted by Molly.  This was a problem since I put her in the cage when I left.   I know the latches were securely in place since she had performed a similar Shawshank-type escape the day before when we went out to dinner.  I immediately freaked and dropped everything to inspect the couches.  Black dog hair everywhere and…dirt. DIRT!  More freaking and chastising of the dog, who at least had the courtesy to appear guilty and skulked out of the room away from the pounding decibels of my shrieking.

The dirt wasn’t that bad.  It was mostly dry and easily wiped off.  We sprung for the stain guard when we ordered the couches so we’re protected somewhat.  The blood stains from when I eventually kill that dog may not be so easily extracted.  They do have a 1-800 number to call for assistance with the really tough stains, though.

I’m starting to think that Molly is in the sulking teenager phase and that she doesn’t care a whit about the rules her mom and dad have set down.  I’ve said it before and will say it again; it’s our own fault.  We’ve given her free reign on all the furniture and it’s going to be tough to break her of this habit.

It’s not really the dirt that gets me, either.  I’m just so afraid that one day I’m going to come home to find my nice furniture destroyed.  She’s fully capable and has proven she can’t be trusted to roam the house alone for extended periods of time.  I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she’s been jamming to Bob Seeger and inviting the neighborhood dogs over for some sex and beer while we’re out.

To her credit, there was so much more she could have gotten into yesterday while I was gone.  The whole top floor was open and our overflowing trashcan was a smorgasboad of garbagy goodness just waiting for the right dog.  It seems the only thing she did was get on the couch.  Perhaps she felt, as Ferris Bueller did about the Ferrari, that she couldn’t pass up the opportunity because the couch was “so choice.”