It started with a snowstorm in my house.
All over the bed, covering the living room floor, even on the patio.
Soft, fluffy white flakes piled high.
Then came the body parts. Under the coffee table, on the sofa, under the covers, on the kitchen floor, and tucked away behind the toilet.
Every few days more snow drifted in, and more ears, tails, legs and snouts found their way into my casita.
I quickly cleared the house, sweeping up and picking up before any surprise guests might appear. Then I began my search for answers.
It didn’t take long for the cause of these mysterious phenomena to surface: the boys were bored. Nor did it take Dick Tracy to discover the leader of the mischiefs.
A friend suggested I simply hold up one of the displaced rabbit ears and see which one of the canines began to shake and hide its head in shame. Yep, I could tell immediately the culprit who instigated the misdeeds.
The innocent one would look a bit concerned but wouldn’t diminish in size and then attempt to crawl under the sofa to avoid retribution. The guilty one, however, would run for cover and hope he was out of sight and reach before getting caught by the scruff of the neck, brought back to the scene of the crimes, and admonished loudly with a couple of swats to his rump, then marched to the patio and blocked from reentering the house.
They both show great sorrow, not about the deeds of destruction, but for getting called out and punished for their few hours of spirited devastation.
“Gosh, Mom, we were only playing,” their eyes would convey, as I swept up piles of toilet paper and buried body parts deep in the trash can.
In attempting to solve this roguish behavior I can’t help but laugh as I realize what does one expect from rambunctious dogs who are left alone for hours at a time. In retirement what else do I have to do except buy more TP and stuffed animals to keep the kids occupied while I’m out enjoying said retirement activities? Thus far, they haven’t learned to use Facebook or order dog supplies online.