On a lunch break last week, Dustin came home to meet with the 2nd of 3 heater guys, to bid our house for the installation job. On their way out, the door from Curtis' quarters was not closed as tightly as it normally is. Curtis, being keen in hearing, noted that the "click" didn't happen and that all hell was about to. He got in to the main part of our home (kitchen, living room, master bedroom, bathroom, and second bedroom) and continued to move EVERY ITEM WITH HIS TEETH to a new location. I am not exaggerating here. He managed to overturn our two humongous and heavy planters in our bedroom and then spread that soil to every corner of our bed (which he un-made and tore holes in the memory foam for which to pack the dirt in). Then there was the cat litter box. Oh. The cat litter box. I'll just say briefly that we didn't have to clean much of that up as he alternately ate it AND splattered it ON and UP our walls. He took the hefty mug that holds our toothbrushes down off of the high shelf it sits on and moved it to the couch where he then ate all of the toothpaste. We still haven't found the toothbrushes. The dental floss? Behind the toilet, of course.
We should have paused to take pictures to share here but, in the heat of this horrific moment, we didn't think about anything other than how long this was going to take to clean up and how badly a person can beat a dog before being sent to prison. (No animals were hurt during this event OR in the posting of it)
Anywhooo, after 4 and 1/2 hours of cleaning and one trip to the dry cleaner, our home is back in order and Curt has his own play pen. It has a 6 foot high cedar fence with a partial view of our neighbors' home and dog, Blue.
I've mentioned him before as we refer to him as Michael Landon. His tail and back fur is so dark black and flow-y like the actor's mane that it's near impossible to tell the difference. Except Blue barks like a maniac at anyone walking by, at cars parked across the street, or at leaves falling. I doubt that Michael Landon was that obsessed or discourteous to his fellow neighbors.
Back to the Nerdle den... it has a cement block border so he cannot dig himself out, it is graveled for ample rollin' and burying time, and it much roomier than the room he'd been cooped up during the day. Dustin still comes home at lunch to let him out to play but now he is all "aired out" and has less nervous and wriggly energy.
Now, when we get home to play, he is less "I'm going to maul you with licking and jumping" and more "fetch" and "tag" and "rest by the fire by 8pm". As my sister-in-law, Megan, had suggested when I was postponing a get together due to Hurricane Nerdle, "maybe he's trying to tell you something." Well, we got the memo, Curtis! I hope you like your new "digs". Snuffle. Get it?
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