Living Up to Viking Stereotypes

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.

Things Ragnar Ate: 
  • 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. 

Angus, being stubbornly convinced he’s the biggest badass in the house, swats at puppy snout instead of running. Inevitably, this results in Ragnar grabbing the big black puffball cat’s lemur-ish tail and attempting to drag him down the hallway. Have you ever heard a cat so pissed off he suddenly morphs into the Alien facehugger? Because that’s what he doe: he wraps that lemur tail around the back of the puppy’s head and latches onto his face with all four sets of claws. Instead of the creepy throat-egg thing, he just grabs Ragnar’s ear in his formidable no-longer-kitten jaws and bites HARD. 
Scream-whining ensues, and Angus rides a bucking puppy through the entire household, doubling down in his grip with both claws and teeth until Ragnar cries uncle. They separate for a few minutes, then Ragnar sniffs kitten belly, Angus licks Ragnar’s forehead, and they snuggle until the WILD PUPPY ENERGY starts the whole rigmarole over. 
Ragnar Lodbrok would undoubtedly be proud of my puppy’s penchant for destruction. 

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