This is obviously my fault. I’m the idiot who chose a Viking legend as the appropriate name for my puppy. Yes, I know there has been WAY more important world events lately, but I’m not a news source, and I’m tired of death, so this post is focused on destruction instead.
- The heel of the only pair of tall boots I own that actually fit my calves. Because he’s an asshole who has no respect for my wardrobe.
- Two packages of incense. Luckily for him, it wasn’t the expensive incense: it was the single-use sticks. I expect his poop to smell like recycled lavender for a while. Does that mean cleaning up after him will make me sleepy?
- A ruler. Yeah. A wooden ruler with a fucking metal edge, which I managed to get away from him before he cut anything but after he lost another tooth.
- The carpet. There are so many carpet munching comments to be had here…at least if he’s going to do the viking stereotype he’s choosing the right activity?
- The wall. The WALL. HE ATE THE MOTHERFUCKING WALL. He picked at the edge of a patch until he could get his little needley white puppy teeth on it, and pulled it off the goddamned wall. I actually have nothing funny to say about this, because it’s just infuriating. Related: does anyone know a good sheetrock person?
- Angus. In neither an inappropriate cat / carpet euphemistic way (gross) OR a deathly way. Let me explain.
So here’s how the daily fights in my house break down. Ragnar gets all worked up with UBER PUPPY ENERGY and starts chasing Angus.