I'm typing this out this morning as a form of therapy. I love our dog. I love our dog. Let me say this again, I love our dog. So help me, though, she so much as looks at another one of my books. . . let's just not go there.
Her love of wood pulp started with the toilet paper.
I made her pose for this picture. The darling husband thought I was totally nuts. I said "If she did it, she can own it!" That would be three rolls in one day, and I can tell you without divulging the gory details, it came right out the other end. That must have been where the paper fixation started. She then moved on to more intellectual matters and consumed half of a 6.99 trade paperback mystery that was lent to me (sorry Mom). However, this morning she did the ultimate no-no in our house, touching Mommy's special books. . . .
That would be a 34.99 collectible version of "The Secret Garden" ordered from The Folio Society in England that comes with it's own little protective slip-case. I wasn't even done reading it. Let me just say, that next to the people in my life that I love, nothing gives me more joy than these books. Nothing. I loooove them. I love them. And let me just say, I don't care if I have to give up coffee for a whole month or sell every article of clothing I own, next month I'm getting right on the phone and ordering another one. That'll be another 34.99. . . without shipping. . . maybe I'll teach her some tricks and start hiring her out so she can pay me back. Anyway, gotta go. While typing this post my husband kindly yelled downstairs, "Angel's in the garden!", probably eating my heirloom tomato plants. Have I told you how much I love heirloom tomatos?