Damage Assessment

So I'm minding my own business, at my desk, writing some ponderous thoughts.

Evelyn walks in and says, "you'd better come look in the Family Room."

Instinctively, I say, "Oh, no!" and reach for my left ear, to ensure I still have my hearing aid.

I did.

This is one of the few times I was not called into another room to see shattered shards of plastic, the remnants of a $2200 hearing aid that Trixie had chewed to itty bitty bits. (She had done this five times in the past. Do the math).

I walked down the hall, toward the family room, a bit of dread already beginning to build, wondering, "what in the hell did that pup do this time?"

And there it was.

Piles of green, mulch like material. Someone, something, the culprit not yet identified, had pulled a plant, or two, or three, down off of the coffee table, on to the floor, and then proceeded to chew the plants to bits, forming a lengthy pile of mulch like material. A good, healthy green. Those plants had been well cared for. Plenty of chlorophyll in those plants. Yep. Well cared for. Nurtured.

Now . . . who could be the likely culprit?

One look kinda solved the case. Mommy and daddy both looked accusingly at Trixie, our beloved pup. Daddy pointed at the mulch and in his best Drill Instructor voice barked . . . "Trixie! This is a NO!"

Trixie slunk to the floor, doing her best to imitate a caterpillar . . . slunk down the edge of the couch and disappeared behind an easy chair, her eyes giving off that mournful "I'm really sorry," look . . . and then she disappeared from view.

We knew from past experience that she wouldn't be gone for too long. She would soon be shyly working her way toward us, wagging that tail of hers, looking at us with those oh-so-expressive eyes that just begged forgiveness.

And the little shit knew perfectly well that we would forgive her. In time.

And we did.

And she took her usual nap with daddy an hour later . . . and right now she's sleeping on mommy's lap while mommy naps in her recliner chair, supposedly watching television.

Even this terrible transgression, I believe, has been forgiven. LIttle Miss Picture of Innocence.

The little shit.