On to the Belts

Earlier this year after fostering Whitley the Puppy from Hell.. and losing most of my leather shoes in the process, I swore I'd never foster another dog under a year old. Puppies are cute in the same way that other people's children are cute i.e. their cuteness relies so much on the fact that you get to give them back to their rightful owners.. I much prefer the older dogs. My dogs are crotchedy cuddly frog dogs who probably move within a five foot radius (couch, foodbowl, back to couch) all day. In comes the new pup who, as I noted earlier, came to our group rather unexpectedly and it was my turn to foster the new one. Doh! I got another puppy, just a mere six months after we had to replace almost all of our computer wiring...because Whitley the Puppy from Hell ate it.

This time I'm trying to be smarter. This little guy doesn't get access to the computer room. All of my remaining shoes are now on a high shelf in the closet. I have purchased 6 chew toys since Saturday. And yet, last night at 11:30, while I was trying to fall asleep, he still found 50 million non dog toys under my bed to chew on. Our night went like this: I fall half asleep. I hear thunk KATHUNK noises from under the bed. Pup crawls out with something in his mouth. I attempt to wrest said thing from his mouth for 5 minutes and then go back to sleep. Repeat. over and over again. I know, I should just clean out from under my bed, but dammit, it was 11:30 and I was trying to go sleep. Plus, I had no idea how much crap I had under there. I loaded it up all on the bedside table because I was still to lazy to get out of bed and put the things where they should go. That's why when I went to hit the snooze button this morning, a 2 foot pile of stuff fell--making so much noise that I didn't even bother with the snooze. Sigh.