Something Smells Funny

This morning my nearly 4 year old dog, Darby refused to go in her crate. Normally this is not a problem, but for some particular reason, today she decided be stubborn. I had tried a few times, put my coat on, put Charlotte's coat on, and tried again. I'm practically chasing her around the house to get her to go upstairs.

She's actually been quite good over the last few months. I've been home a lot more, and when I do leave for an hour or two at a time, she's completely fine.

Since I was running late, per usual, I decided she would be just fine hanging out today.

I didn't think about it until I was on my way home this evening and a wave of terror washed over me. I realized it had been a long day. What did she get into? I panicked. I went back and forth with myself, thinking she probably just layed around all day, and then thinking that she ate the house.

This is what I came home to:

• scraps of cardboard from a light bulb box all over the floor
• a light bulb (thankfully!)
• a chewed up pacifier
• a chewed up dog bone
• a not chewed up blanket
• multiple baby socks not chewed
• a chewed up nook cover. <-- this is when I started to go crazy
• a chewed up duvet cover
• a chewed up pillow
• lots and lots of fluff from said pillow
• a spoon
• a nasty, gassy farty dog.

I guess I learned my lesson. Hopefully she digests everything and we don't discover more things out in the back yard. Rhodesian Ridgebacks are known to be destructive dogs and Darby proves that right.
The funny thing is, she's never tried to get into the trash. I'm about ready to introduce her. At least we were already throwing those things away...

I'm stressed out this week (and it's Monday!?) so I'm having a giant glass of a beautiful buttery oaky chardonnay in lieu of dinner.