I wanted to share with you the tale of a destructive dog.

Chyna was a good girl....Dave's dog, an American Staffordshire terrier (for those who don't know, that's the genetic cousin of the American pitbull)..the scarediest AmStaff I ever met.  We used to live in a house that had 2 flights of stairs in it.  It took Chyna 3 months to learn how to walk those stairs. She was afraid to...she'd stand at the top, stiff legged and panting, whilst we stood at the bottom, calling and encouraging her to come on down.  The first couple of times she jumped from the top to the bottom, the scrabbled about on the floor, legs akimbo, panting and shedding and slobbering.

But I digress....Chyna was a separation anxiety chewer.  She'd go through one of those ropey chew toys in a week if we spent more time than usual out of the house (I was staying at home with the kids when we first got her, so she got used to having company most, if not all, of the time).  She never chewed shoes - she did gnaw one of the spars of my dining chair once, and she got hold of a matchbox toy car and gave that a hard time...but apart from that she pretty much stuck to her toys.

So, one day I had gone to the store with the kids and had left Chyna at home alone.  We weren't gone that long, 2 hours at the most.  When we got home, Chyna was sitting at the top of the stairs (our house was split-level..you came in on the landing, went upstairs to the living room and downstairs to the bedrooms), looking all 'hang dog'.  Those of you that have dogs will know that look I'm talking about.  That guilty look they get when they're done something they know is wrong.  I went up the stairs to the living room.......and I couldn't see the carpet for chewed up paper.  It was everywhere.....dime sized little pieces of yellow and white paper, all over the floor.  She had taken the phone book, yellow pages, cover and all, and had demolished it.  It was not only on the floor, it was on the couch, the recliner, the coffee table...everywhere.  Chyna just sat there, looking sheepish.  I asked her what happened, and she started turning circles slowly, licking her lips and 'smiling' at me (she used to bare her front teeth when she was nervous about anything)

"Oooh, you naughty girl!  Just you wait until I tell you dad about this!  You're a bad bad bad dog, Chyna-doodle!"

At that point she slunk off into the corner and wouldn't look at me anymore.

I called Dave to see if he would be home for lunch anytime soon...said I had something I wanted to show him.

So, Dave comes home home and starts walking up the stairs.  He gets halfway up, sees the mess, and comes to a halt. 

"What the......?!"

"Your dog had herself a party this morning" was my reply.

He turned to look at Chyna, still cowering in the corner...he didn't even say anything to her...and she pees all over the floor, rolls over and shows him her belly, smiling the whole time.

*sigh* man, I miss that dog.......and man, do I hope that Henry's not a stress chewer!  So, do you have any stories of canine or feline antics or destruction?  I'd love to hear them!