Friday, September 5, 2014

Eat My Shorts

It was O'Dark30 when I was awoken from my slumber to the sounds of the dog chewing something in the bedroom as he lay somewhere near my side of the bed.

He has allergies, so I hoped he was just chewing on his paws. I wasn't conscious enough to realize the sounds didn't match.

Somehow later on the conversation comes up about what I heard and how DH found the empty toilet paper roll I had left on the floor to take down to recycle in the morning, eaten, or shredded.

Apologies all around, no big deal. The dog had food, so no idea why he chose to eat it that night and not any other night one might have been left previously; it is a mystery. DH theorized that he might have been bored; to which I wonder why the dog didn't just move around the house and play with his real toys.

Fast forward to later in the day or the day after...

I go to put on the only khaki shorts I currently own (pay no attention to the two pair waiting to be repaired in my office...). As I bend down to retrieve them from the floor (yes, yes, I know...) I see one of the belt loops has pulled out.

As I am thinking that I have never used a belt with this shorts before and so one loop out is no big deal, I realize that they feel a bit odd on....specifically the chewed parts. At the waist. Ugh.

The dog ate my shorts. They were clearly folded in half when the jaws clamped down and, not surprising, the dog probably laid on them to chew the TP roll. Ugh. Double Ugh.

I debated pulling a shirt over them, but the Jaws bite was too low to even keep the shorts up over my hips. So that thought was discarded quickly. I just had to toss them, well worn, Walmart special, that they were.

Of course, I had to tell DH, who figured they could be knock around house shorts and also thought the dog ate them by accident. Into the trash they went.  The shorts, not the dog and DH. I have running shorts to wear around the house...

I can't believe he ate my shorts. I hope every Pop Culture reference is also running through your head every time you read that the dog had decided to Eat My Shorts. 

Well, it should teach me to not put the clothes next to the drawer where they need to go but to actually bend down and put them back in said drawer. I didn't even bother to "ask" the dog if he recalled eating the fabric I might have held up to him to search for clues on "guilt." It was clearly an accident, or they would have been shredded also, and not just one rip...at the fold...amounting to two on opposite sides.

I just had to share because it was too funny. I thought about taking a picture to show ya'll, but space is limited and I think you get the picture. I might as well add, the bites were on the back love handles, nothin' is gonna hold up against gravity there.

Moral of the story: put your clothes away because you never know what chain of events will lead up to include the one and only thing on the floor. Especially when they are your only pair of khaki shorts, and only one of three total that fit you!  

1 comment:

  1. Tocco ate underwear and, one time, even a bra. He spit out the underwire on Meg's bed and chewed the fabric to shreds. Yuck. For years after he died, I habitually never left anything - not even a pencil - at dog-height.

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