Woody
02-15-2005, 01:30 PM
MY SHOES! MY SHOES!
So there I was, innocently returning home from work after a day of legal gobbledigook, looking forward to the calm and serene reception from my puppy, Newman. Those trusting, beautiful green eyes welcoming me back from the harsh world, wanting nothing more than a tummy rub in return.
Little did I know that I was coming home to the devil himself and the hell he had created.
Argh. I walked in the back door from the garage and....Newman greeted me at the door. This in itself is not an outstanding occurrence, except that the little hellion is supposed to be CORDONED OFF IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM. Sound the alarms, raise the sirens....Newman jumped the baby gate and had his very own Ferris Bueller's Day Off. I looked at him and then I raised my head and looked into the living room and I almost turned to salt. As far as I know my kitchen chairs are not supposed to be toppled over next to the leather couch. Perhaps he did not like my placement of furniture and was incorporating some sort of Feng Shui layout. He, of course, didn't know what to do with his bladder, so he watered the leopard print area rug with it. He also managed to get the cushions off of the kitchen chairs (how he untied these without an opposable thumb is beyond me) and, because of his fine palate and sophisticated tastes, ate all of my cat's food. Next, he moved on to my closet upstairs where, of course, the doors were open because I did not anticipate him pulling a Houdini from the laundry room. Two lovely pairs of Nine West shoes will now be coming out in his next bowel movement. This in itself was almost enough to send his chocolate lab butt back to his breeder. Touch anything....touch the furniture, chew on the lamp stands, gnaw on the Pier I Import accessories.....but lay those razor puppy teeth on my shoes and ye shall pay the consequences. The Manolo Blahnik Bible explicitly states "if a puppy destroys a pair of your high heeled shoes, said puppy should be taught the importance and hard work that goes into being a cobbler". Newman will be receiving this stern lecture this evening.
And Wally....what of Wally? My poor feline was later found cowering under the bed in the spare room, his eyes the size of a rodeo belt buckle and his fur expanded like a toilet scrub brush. How long he endured "Free Newman" is anybody's guess.
It took about an hour and a half to clean up the general chaos that was the main level of my house, while Newman sat out on the deck and thought about what he had done.
The only positive point to this entire story is that I am now off to Arnold Churgin's to buy new shoes.
New Puppy Owner Dee
So there I was, innocently returning home from work after a day of legal gobbledigook, looking forward to the calm and serene reception from my puppy, Newman. Those trusting, beautiful green eyes welcoming me back from the harsh world, wanting nothing more than a tummy rub in return.
Little did I know that I was coming home to the devil himself and the hell he had created.
Argh. I walked in the back door from the garage and....Newman greeted me at the door. This in itself is not an outstanding occurrence, except that the little hellion is supposed to be CORDONED OFF IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM. Sound the alarms, raise the sirens....Newman jumped the baby gate and had his very own Ferris Bueller's Day Off. I looked at him and then I raised my head and looked into the living room and I almost turned to salt. As far as I know my kitchen chairs are not supposed to be toppled over next to the leather couch. Perhaps he did not like my placement of furniture and was incorporating some sort of Feng Shui layout. He, of course, didn't know what to do with his bladder, so he watered the leopard print area rug with it. He also managed to get the cushions off of the kitchen chairs (how he untied these without an opposable thumb is beyond me) and, because of his fine palate and sophisticated tastes, ate all of my cat's food. Next, he moved on to my closet upstairs where, of course, the doors were open because I did not anticipate him pulling a Houdini from the laundry room. Two lovely pairs of Nine West shoes will now be coming out in his next bowel movement. This in itself was almost enough to send his chocolate lab butt back to his breeder. Touch anything....touch the furniture, chew on the lamp stands, gnaw on the Pier I Import accessories.....but lay those razor puppy teeth on my shoes and ye shall pay the consequences. The Manolo Blahnik Bible explicitly states "if a puppy destroys a pair of your high heeled shoes, said puppy should be taught the importance and hard work that goes into being a cobbler". Newman will be receiving this stern lecture this evening.
And Wally....what of Wally? My poor feline was later found cowering under the bed in the spare room, his eyes the size of a rodeo belt buckle and his fur expanded like a toilet scrub brush. How long he endured "Free Newman" is anybody's guess.
It took about an hour and a half to clean up the general chaos that was the main level of my house, while Newman sat out on the deck and thought about what he had done.
The only positive point to this entire story is that I am now off to Arnold Churgin's to buy new shoes.
New Puppy Owner Dee