Monday night, I dreamed that B and I were house shopping again. B was really loving the house we were touring, but I couldn’t get over the noise I was hearing: a grinding, metal chomping. I hated it and refused the house because of it. Suddenly, in the middle of ranting and raving about this noise, I woke up to find that the noise was actually happening. In our house. In our bedroom. I looked down at Scout’s bed, and saw that–yes folks, you guessed it–she was eating something. Something metal, and very, very loud. At 12:30 in the morning.
Turns out it was the zipper from her bed. She’d ripped it off, but very carefully. She only took off the zipper and nothing else. As soon I took it away from her she jumped up, ran to her crate, and pulled out her bone and began gnawing on it frantically. The girl had to chew, I suppose.
Actually, this action made me think that Scout, for some reason my human mind couldn’t understand, really needed to chew. Maybe she was having one last teething hoorah? Maybe she didn’t feel well? I know that dogs chew for all kinds of reasons, and I was just thankful that a) she’d only taken off the zipper and not dismantled the bed completely a la this event back in April:
and b) she didn’t grab something illegal to chew on like my shoe or a book or something. I threw her bed into the bathroom (on the other side of the baby gate), and told Scout to go to bed, but without the fluffy bed to sleep on she was restless. I finally had to crate her to get her to settle down. Needless to say, B and I didn’t sleep well Monday night.
Cue Tuesday morning. I’m busy getting dressed for work when I notice that the house is quiet. Very quiet. Not a good sign. If I can’t hear Scout’s jingling collar tags or Zoey is MIA, there’s a problem. See, Scout’s tags will jingle when she’s downstairs tossing her toys into the air and entertaining herself after a long night’s rest, and Zoey is normally under our feet enjoying the absence of the dog. If Zoey is in the same spot as Scout, by choice, then I know there’s trouble. (I’ve noticed that Zoey likes to be in the same room as Scout whenever she’s sneaking around doing something she’s not supposed to. My theory is that this allows Zoey to watch Scout get punished. I think she gets a lot of satisfaction from this. Cats…)
So anyway, I knew something was up, so I crept down the stairs as quietly as I could. It’s hard to sneak up on creatures whose hearing is about a bazillion times more powerful than your own, but I’ve learned that Scout’s hearing power will lessen when she’s distracted by her nose. Scent > hearing apparently.
My suspicions were correct. Just as I came around the kitchen corner, Scout hopped down from the kitchen counter. “What were you doing?” I asked her in my ohhh, busted! voice. She looked at me with her big, sad brown eyes…
…and let out a the loudest man-belch ever.
It was all I could do not to bust out laughing. Scout had been stretching across the counter to reach a baking dish I had filled with soapy water to soak overnight. She’d splashed the water all over the counter top…
…and gotten her mussel pretty soaked in the process, but she’d also managed to lap up a good portion of the soapy water. I half expected her to burp bubbles. She’s fine now, so there were no adverse affects from the soapy water…other than burps, of course.