Yesterday, my wife and I decided to go out to lunch. I figured we would be gone 2 hours at the most. It would be Spike’s first time alone in the house. How much trouble could he get into in that amount of time? It would take him 20 or so minutes to even notice that we were both gone. That left less than 100 minutes. No worries.
Well, I guess Spike was either quicker on the draw than I thought or he was just more efficient with his free time. He knew Lisa, the cat was a push-over. All he had to do was jump around and she would take off for under the bed or wedge herself in a corner.
We came home within my estimate. I opened the front door and walked in. There was Spike being his usual perky self. He jumped up and down, happy to see me home. As I rounded the entry hall to go into the living room, I noticed a small piece of paper on the floor.
"It looks like Spike pulled some paper out of the wastebasket, Honey," I said to my wife. I reached sown and picked it up. It was a Rolodex card. Uh oh! We kept every phone number we ever needed throughout our whole married life on that Rolodex. I hoped this was just a one-time little naughtiness on Spike’s part.
But there ahead of me lay a river of Rolodex cards. Some appeared untouched; Others so mangled they were unreadable. all I could think of was, "ACK! There’s no backup!" And me a database guy. Sheesh! "This is like the cobbler’s children going without shoes. It will take hours, nay, days to go through all the cards and repair the damage, and that’s only if we can read the cards."
But that was only the start of The Nightmare on Mosca Street. I could hear a faint humming sound to my left. I looked in that direction, and there amongst more cards was the new Pedi Paws nail trimmer…turned on and running for who knows how long. Spike HATED that thing. It was second only to his arch nemesis, the vacuum cleaner.
In the commercials, all those cute little dogs lounging contently on the sofa while their owners gently ground down their claws from daggers to round nubbies… Yeah, sure. Spike wouldn’t hold still long enough to even get the darn thing up to his paw.
The instructions read, "You might have to introduce your pet to Pedi Paws." It’s like "introducing" a chain saw to my leg.
But I digress. Back to the battleground.
My wife’s cute back scratcher with a little hand with curved fingers at the end of the handle was now an amputee. Not even the thumb survived the jaws of death. Only the palm was intact. Evidently Spike had come up with an answer as to whether to eat Rolodex cards with a fork or fingers. He chose the latter.
The TV remote lie next to it. NO! NOT THE REMOTE!
But my fears were quickly assuaged. It somehow avoided even the slightest indication of a tooth mark. Spike obviously has scruples.
You know, there is a heck of a lot of toilet paper on one roll. And we’re not even talking about one of those double rolls either. No, sir. A regular 2-ply standard roll…It was heaped on the floor in a pile about 2 feet high. The rest of it went up and down the hall about a bazillion times. And Spike proved he is not ready to leave the Shaulin temple yet. He definitely could not walk on the paper without tearing it. There were shreds of TP everywhere. Some of it landed on the counter top in the bathroom. It was beginning to look a lot like Christmas everywhere I looked. Oh, please! It’s just too early for the holidays. I don’t care what Macy’s says.
That is about the extent of the damage except for a chewed-up ball point pen here, a shredded emery board there.
A doggie crate is definitely at the top of my shopping list.