Why I hate my Daisy-Mae lately

The dogs have been home for awhile now, and things have gone pretty well, for the most part. My girl is slowly learning that she needs to give Kooter space, and she backs up when he growls. They have gotten right back into the groove of things: eating on the back porch in the mornings, playing ball for a bit afterwards, sleeping on the cool wood floors during the day, & cozying up on the couch at night. However, Daisy has recently gone back to her old ways.

Last week I caught her digging a hole under the gate. It's a wrought iron fence and gate, so it's not like she was just trying to get a peek of the front of the house.

Three days last week, I came home to the contents of two bathroom trash cans scattered throughout the house. Cotton balls, 75258 pieces of tissues, a used pull-up (shredded, of course), and other random stuff.

Yesterday morning, I woke up to find a pile of puke on the dining room floor. Or rather, it was a Clorox cleaning wipe that someone thought she could eat, but obviously regurgitated.

And last night was the worst of all. After being gone for a mere 5 hours, I walked in the house to find a dozen or so pictures on the floor. In about 140,000 pieces. Pictures I had just organized a couple of weeks ago, so I could buy frames for them. I don't even know how the hell she got them, but she did.

Pictures that can't be replaced. My brother at 4 years old, wrapped up in a blanket our grandma made for him. My brother at 7 years old, with a too-serious look on his face, in a pose that is eerily-similar to mine in a picture from when I was 4. Three pictures of my foster brother. Three pictures that I really loved of my foster brother. Shredded.

Of course, I don't have the negatives, but I'm hoping they just happen to be in my dad's house somewhere. Of course, I couldn't find all the pieces of each picture, because Daisy fucking eats the stupidest stuff!, so I can't even try to have the pictures restored by someone. And I damn sure am not going to root around in her 7000 piles of crap for the missing scraps.

Times like this, I wish we had never gotten her. This morning she is perky, as usual, bouncing around as I feed her, drooling all of the place, like everything is fine. This morning, my mind is scrambling, thinking of all the places photo negatives could be stashed in my father's house.


Anonymous said...

I love my animals as well...but once an animal gets to be detrimental to a home, they don't belong. If you are dead set on keeping her, maybe training is in order?

Lauren said...


Separation anxiety causes sweet pups to become destructive. Trust me, I know. Crate training saved our relationship.

Heather said...

I agree with the crate training, but sometimes, worst case scenario, it doesn't work and then you have to be prepared to find her a new home. I am not the most sentimental person, and that includes animals. I just don't see the sense in putting up with a destructive animal who refuses to follow the rules, no matter how long you've had them. =( Good luck!

Misty said...

I'm with anonymous on this one. The animals behave or they go. We have a dog that has a little menace in her. We've crate trained her as well. It's a good thing, for us. Do what you gotta do...what's right for you....