Dumbshit Alert!

Not Callie...ME! I think we're going for the Marley award. My problem is that she is such a good puppy most of the time that I forget...SHE'S STILL A PUPPY! My puppy is a chewer. I cannot keep enough chewy stuff around for her. Hence, eating four beds...and... well, I'll get to that in a minute. So someone at work suggested I get those big butcher bones from the meat department. Seems like a good idea at the time. They're frozen, and big, and will keep her busy for a while...maybe. So I give her one Christmas Eve...Merry Christmas, and all that crap. Christmas day she had been working on it for a while. I noticed it was a bit fatty at first, but did just that...just noticed. I let her keep working away, relieved that I may have a solution to the chewing. So I take her to Mom and Dad's while we're having dinner, and she has diarrhea all over M&D's carpet...Oops! We clean it up, have dinner, Merry Christmas...blah, blah, blah. The next day I have to go to work. I noticed Callie had diarrhea in the morning. I was hoping she'd be okay, and put her in her kennel and went to work. I came home at lunch and she had had a big accident in her kennel. Okay...the bone was a bad idea. Nobody told me about the messy stool part...This went on for days, by the way. Her new bed, that she was in the process of destroying anyway had to go in the trash completely. I fixed up her kennel with some blankets, left the door open...just in case she had another accident (that way she wouldn't be stuck right next to it) and went back to work. Came home...no more accidents. As the days passed she seemed to be doing a little better each day. She had done such a good job out of her kennel, i.e. leaving my stuff alone, I thought I'd let her wander the house while I'm at work because I knew she was more content with her freedom...and left her out...also just in case she wasn't done having accidents...then I come home New Year's Eve...Oops!

Since Callie had taken the stuffing out of her bed, she decided I needed the stuffing taken out of MY bed...I can see the logic in her thinking. She is a puppy, and part of the pack, and wants to take care of everyone the same and do her part as part of the pack...Her face was precious when I walked my bedroom and screamed. She came right to my side, sat down, looked up at me and started wagging her tail just a little bit. I expressed my serious unhappiness, she kept wagging just a little bit, trying to look more cute with each passing moment...I had to walk into the kitchen and chuckle.

This really is not very funny. I had a nasty old quilt I used for years when I had Ozzie because he slept all over my bed all the time. When he died Mom got this new one that is (was) very pretty and comfortable and snazzed up my house a bit, not top of the line expensive, but not cheap. Callie still sleeps on the bed, but takes up less room...anyway...Now I have to figure out how to replace my comforter before Mom finds out...of course if she reads this, which she may, I'm in big trouble.

The picture above is how I found Callie this morning when I woke up. I had to take the picture, she looked so cute, and apparently scarred for life with the lecture she received last night about destroying my stuff.

The moral of the story is that this dumbshit needs to remember that she's still very much a puppy and I need to treat her as such. No butcher bones, no hanging out on my bed while I'm not here! I amaze myself some days...

Oh...and Happy New Year!