Things Ragnar Ate Episode 4: The Reeking

I hate cicada season. HATES it, Precious.

Ragnar doesn’t give a hoot (or a bark, or a howl, or some weird middle-of-the-night snuffle-grunt that scares the shit out of his owner) about cicadas. 
Ragnar cares deeply about the innards of stuffed animals. And shoes. And walls. 
So, lately in the list of Things Ragnar Ate: 
  • Another pair of flip flops – sadly, Crocs are in some sort of trouble and he keeps eating my sandals…and I’m insane enough to attempt to thwart him by buying another pair and hoping I don’t forget to put them out of reach. Oh come now, do we REALLY think I’m capable of keeping them safe from the one-shoe-eater? 
  • A full bag of strawberry Twizzlers – I expect to clean up something resembling the results of Strawberry Shortcake kegger later.
  • Something that could be a melon-ball sized ball of butter, a hard boiled egg yolk, or possibly some sort of alien eyeball, covered with ants – I mean, he’s a damn master at finding weird shit in the yard as well as leaving weird shit in the yard. However, the eye-rolling and frantic snorting when he gets an ant up his nose is utterly priceless. 
  • Just another hole in the wall – Pink Floyd would be proud, I’m sure. For those counting, this makes three. Is there a psychiatrist out there who treats pica in dogs? I don’t get his fascination with sheetrock. 
  • Weiner Dog and Olaf guts – not real ones. But his weiner dog stuffed animal is now gutless and I spent a good 20 minutes picking up fluff even as he looked me in the eye and slooooooowly pulled out more stuffing, like a creepy serial killer. Who makes a stuffed dog toy of another dog, anyway? Disturbing. 
  • Every throw pillow in this house – because he’s a fucker who obviously hates my naps. 
  • A goose egg. Where the fuck did he find a GOOSE EGG, and WHY WAS IT ROTTEN? – I mean crawling with maggots, green and black inside, death-stench rotten. What the fuck have people been doing in this townhome complex, really? 

If I catch the person leaving rotten goose eggs or weird yellow balls of something icky in the yard, I suspect they’ll find an unidentifiable stench in their yard…far away from my stinky-breathed-dog.

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