And then there's Asterisk, my 7-month-old Boxer pup. For the past several days she has been trying my patience to the limit. If there is something to get into, she's gotten into it with a vengeance. A few days ago she flipped an entire bowl of kibbles with her foot, just like tiddly-winks, and shot kibble all over the kitchen floor. It was like someone dropped a bag of marbles. She has utterly destroyed her very expensive high density foam crate pad & cushy afghan I'd placed on top for extra comfort. That's the picture, above.
She knocked over a potted plant and it smashed to smithereens. Dirt and pottery bits all over the place. Then she had the audacity to steal the little plastic dish thing you put under plants to protect furniture (picture on left).
She has chewed a piece of plywood into oblivion, leaving it hanging in strips. She has pulled the bark off a small decorative log I was using as plant stand on my deck. She is still not housebroken, and must be let out every 15-20 minutes or I'm cleaning up accidents.
My exasperation with her is at an all-time high. And just about the time I wonder why I thought it would be fun to own a puppy again, she comes into my bedroom where I'm working at my craft table, creating cards, and lies down at my feet, just to be near me. And my heart melts as she puts her chin on my foot and sighs happily.
Puppies. They're as bad as children.