Two weeks ago, we came home to find our new car registration ripped into pieces. The sticker was still intact but there was not enough paper left to resurrect the actual registration.
Tuck, the wonder dog, mysteriously skulked away.
I had to order (and pay for) a new registration.
Today, I discovered a previously unopened note to my girls from their grandmother with three quarters of the envelope and notecard missing.
Again, boy wonder conveniently disappeared just after I found it.
The card had been in the mail pile for a few days, but we only remembered to tell the girls about it this morning. Well, the girl who was up and preoccupied with getting to school on time for her Math final. Neither girl had a chance to read it before Tuck gobbled it up.
We feed the dog. We give him treats. We give him lots and lots of love and attention. And walks. And time in the yard and with his doggie friends.
Yet, for more than eight years, we have come home to overturned trash cans and random, ragged pieces of mail and remnants of paper towels and the miraculous disappearing dog.
This dog is pretty well trained, but we can’t seem to get him to stop. He doesn’t go for shoes or furniture or any of the typical things that you hear about. It’s always paper. Paper towels, paper tissues, all sorts of paper.
Of course, we should know by now not to leave important papers on the coffee table which is at his mouth level. Especially when we are not going to be at home.
But we forget. And he loves paper.
The only thing left to ponder: Will my mother-in-law believe my kids when they say the dog ate her letter?
We’ll have to make sure she looks at the photo above. No human could have done that.
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