Bad Dog

My dog, Paisley, is usually a very good dog. Sure, she barks at the television too much, and leaves the occasional unpleasant surprise on the floor — but then again, she’s an only dog whose parents have long days at work, so we have to give her some leeway. And she’s certainly not above a moment of opportunism; if you leave a tempting people-treat out overnight where she can get to it, she may do what any dog in that position would do.

Just these last few days, though, she has been a very bad dog twice.

A few days ago, we were over at my parents’ house sitting in the family room. Mom started toward the kitchen and I heard her fussing at Paisley. I looked down the hall and saw my big red school bag (it’s an old Samsonite carry-on) lying on its side, with its contents spilling out down the hall. Paisley had pulled it out from under the table, knocked it on its side, and basically crawled inside it, pulling everything out, to get to a baggie of dog treats I’d tucked in there. And I know — dog treats. But STILL. She’d NEVER done anything like that before!

And then there was this morning.

I went downstairs and walked into our kitchen, to a startling sight. My keys… a bottle of Tylenol… mini-packs of Kleenex… chapstick… compact… Tums… wallet… a ziplock baggie of candy… a pack of gum… nail file… EVERYTHING from my purse was strewn across the floor in a wide scatter pattern. Nothing was damaged — she hadn’t even tried to chew through the bag of candy — but it was all thrown to the four winds. The weirdest thing? My purse was NOWHERE TO BE FOUND. A little while later I found my purse (which is not a small bag, incidentally) in a completely different room, thrown on top of a pile of clothes I’m sorting for donation, completely empty, and turned COMPLETELY INSIDE OUT.

(This was a couple of hours ago… about three minutes ago, I found more purse contents under the chair in the living room!)

The only thing that is unaccounted for is half a sleeve of Ritz crackers that I’d been carrying in my purse. I’d assume she ate them, except I can’t even find the wrapper, and surely she didn’t eat the wax paper! Maybe I’ll find it upstairs under my pillow later…

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