I had some topics I was thinking about, that I wanted to write about with astounding clarity that wow you with my skill.
But that’s not going to happen today, as I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
I hate my dog.
I know what the four of you are thinking. “Hate your dog? But you go on and on about how you love her.” Well, you’d be right, but currently I really, really dislike her.
Honey’s been a good dog. Up untill yesterday. I got home to messes downstairs (she rifled through the trash, and chewed on some knitting) messes upstairs (she ate a box of chocolate, and ripped apart a few books) and messes outside.
The outside, though, is what’s killing me. I was looking for the things she’s taken: socks, knitting, stuffed animals. And when I started digging in her holes, I found what I wasn’t looking for at all.
A pair of jeans.
Which quite irritated me, because I hadn’t even noticed that she had taken large clothing items from the bedroom. I kept digging in her holes, and found my favorite tanktop that I would have been irritated if I never found it.
When I went to bed, though, is when I got really irritated. I looked next to the hamper, where most of my clothes end up, and there was nothing there. And I don’t recall picking up my clothes and putting them anywhere in the last two days. So, ergo, the dog stole them.
This morning, I found a second pair of jeans outside, but I still can’t find a few other things I am pretty sure I wore. And I’m sure that there are more missing clothes that can’t remember, as I can’t even recall what I wore on Monday.
All this really boils down to is that I need to start training her, but I don’t know how. I’ve never trained a dog before, let alone a hunting dog.
Wow, that’s amazing. I can’t say that I’ve ever heard of a dog so hellbent on hiding things. My cat frequently hides things under the rugs. More than a few times I’ve stepped on her while her paws have been busy thrusting underneath the rug (where I don’t expect them to be).
Just an update: I found the missing shirt, burried under some loose dirt that manages to look like she doesn’t dig there. And when raking up some leaves, I found my underoo pouch that holds my knitting paraphanalia.
And Honey is no longer allowed in the house when no one is home. Serves her right.
Wow!!! That is so crazy. I have heard of dogs that put bones in holes but not clothes. As annoying as I know it must be, heck, I’d be down right ticked off, I can’t help but laugh when picturing a dog running outside with a pair of pants.
I can identify with hating an dog. I bought a cock/shit for my hubby as a present and I truely can’t stand the dog. He intentionally comes back in the house to do his business, after i just took him out for a pee/poo. He has now taken up biting me when I put the leash on him. I am at the point I’m ready to play punt football. My patients has run out.
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