The naked truth . . . what to do when your dog eats the house

An unrepentant pup.

When I got home yesterday, my little blue border collie came running up, ears back, tail between his legs. “Uh oh,” I said, “what did you do?”

“He tore up the onion field,” Chap said, shucking off his leather work gloves as he came up from the back of the house.

I took Bodhi’s muzzle in my hands to ask him if this was true, and was treated to a big blast of onion breath. There was still onion stuck between his teeth. I sighed. This wasn’t the first time the little beast’s been in trouble for tearing something up.

Last summer, while he was still a puppy and we’d just finished building the house, I gave both the dogs a bath, then I let them play on the grass until they got a little bit more dry. I went upstairs to go get my laptop so I could join the dogs down by the water, and all of a sudden I hear this horrible, reverberating “CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH!” and I don’t know what in the world it is, but I know it can’t be good, so I run down the stairs, and fly out the back door, and there’s Bodhi, laying on the porch. . . eating the house.

I couldn’t believe it. He had 15 toys within snout’s reach, 13-thousand sticks to chomp on, and a whole other dog to play with, and he uses the house for a chew toy?

Poor Sam the lab was sitting there, watching him, like, “Dude. What are you doing?”

I screamed “Bodhi, what are you doing? Are you trying to get us both killed?”

He just spit out a big chunk of house and looked at me like, “What?”

Luckily, he took big chomps rather than chewed little bits, so I told him he was bad and put him in his kennel and went back and jigsaw puzzled the pieces back then Scotch taped it together so it wouldn’t look as bad when I had to give Chap the news.  I called my mother and I said, “What am I going to do? He’s going to kill us both! Should I call him so he’s not surprised when he gets home?”

Mama said, “Are you crazy? Then he’ll have an hour to stew about it until he gets home.”

So, I went and took a shower to cool off and figure out how to tell him. He came home while I was getting out of the shower.

I stood there, dripping wet and I said, “I have some bad news.”

And then I told him and was shocked at his reaction.

“Well, let’s see it,” he said.

With great dread and visions of my pup strapped to the front bumper of his truck, I got dressed and took him outside and showed him the taped up version of our brand new house. I couldn’t believe it–He didn’t blow his top.

He said, “Work with him about not eating the house and keep him off the porch until he learns not to do that.”

Moral of the story: If you’re going to deliver bad news to a man, do it while you’re naked.

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About kitfrazier

Award-winning novelist and former big city journalist who bumped into a cowboy and woke up in the wild, wild west.
This entry was posted in Confessions of an Accidental Cowgirl. Bookmark the permalink.

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