My parents came over for dinner last night to celebrate their 37th wedding anniversary (37? In a row?) (Bonus points to anyone who can identify the movie that quote came from.)
We were sitting at the table while the puppies played on the couch. I thought they were chewing their bones until I heard a very distinctive ripping sound. I jumped up, convinced they had just destroyed the couch. My heart sank even lower when I realized they weren't chewing the couch, they were chewing one of my mom's shoes. The shoe was still identifiable as a shoe but there was no way to salvage it. They mutilated the shoe.
Stella has always been a fan of shoes. We constantly find her trying to get into the closet. If we accidentally leave the door open, she will instantly stick her head in and grab a few shoes. She doesn't chew them, though. She gums them a bit but mainly just likes to cuddle them. We think she likes the smell (because she usually goes for Shawn's workout runners or my ballerina flats or other shoes we wear while sockless.)
It looks like we have become a little too complacent when it comes to training the puppies. That changes today. Today the puppies will start boot camp. Today the puppies will embark on their journey to become less horrid. No longer will Stella's wrinkly brow or Wolfgang's old-man eyebrows get them out of trouble.
I am officially immune to this:
I won't lie; I am likely not immune to this: