Max should be renamed Destructor. No, really. He’s like a comic book supervillain. Just when we think there’s nothing left for him to do that he has yet to do? He finds another way to surprise, shock and amaze us. Not really in a good way, either.
It must be duly noted that last night’s debaucle was partly our own fault. In all seriousness, we’ve notice that he has insane storm anxiety. He can tell a storm coming a solid eighteen hours before it hits. He’s a better indicator than both an old man’s arthritis or the news. He gets into serious trouble when he pulls these stunts. He has, prior to storms a-comin’ - eaten a hole in a chair, destroyed yarn, destroyed projects, thrown a remote off the coffee table, and defecated in his crate then stepped in it. That last one, incidentally, was totally my fault. I didn’t want him to have an accident, and everyone knows dogs don’t like to mess their crates. Not our Max.
Yesterday, obviously, was a storm. Winds hitting upwards of 40 miles per hour. Noise from rain and branches flying around outside. All of this was enough to give me anxiety, let alone him. He was willing to go outside, for a change. However, he stared out the windows as though the end of the world was coming.
We had plans with some friends. They arrived, came in the house, and dropped some accoutrements off. Max and JD greeted them excitedly. The four humans went out to dinner. An enjoyable dinner, it was. Arriving home, however, not nearly as enjoyable. This is what we came home to:
Yes, those pieces of wood would be bamboo double pointed needles. Those round purple things would be the “grapes” from the adorable wine glass flip flops my BiL and his girlfriend gave us (one of which you can see in the upper right hand corner of the picture, sans grapes). Also lost in hurricane Max was a Denise Interchangeable cord. A piece of which was clearly visible in the x-ray at the emergency vet to which he was promptly taken for a visit.
Now, as to why I haven’t yet punted him out a window? This is the reason:
