As if it weren’t bad enough that Stella disemboweled that Christmas ornament yesterday — in my bare feet I stepped on a small, painful object that turned out to be the hand of an angel — she’s come up with a new little trick. Under cover of darkness she tip-paws over to the tree, carefully selects a present, picks it up with her fine black lips, and carries it to the middle of the rug where she shreds it.
Damned dog. Stupid dog. Stupid damned dog.
Lucky for her, she howled for me today. It saved her from extinction.
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