In The Doghouse

BOTH our dear, sweet dogs are in trouble right now. First, Maisy (although we suspected Tucker) ate all but this remaining 1/3 of the wristband of a cotton glove last week. We didn't know who had done it until the glove "reappeared". 'Nuff said.

Then, this morning, Tucker - who has been a big boy and sleeping outside of his kennel for many moons now - earned the right to go BACK INTO his kennel each night. I came downstairs this morning to find my new shoes - a replacement pair for the ones he'd eaten before when he was once unattended (our fault) - TORN APART. Why he couldn't chew on one of his million toys scattered around, I'll never know. I am grateful, at least, that he didn't choose a piece of furniture to munch . . . .