Why I'm not a fan of Duke the dog

Two of The Three Bears were casualties – Baby Bear is missing his right leg and his left elbow is toast.  Mama Bear is completely MIA.  My beautiful Spode Christmas China butter dish lay shattered on the dining room floor, next to the thoroughly chewed collector’s Golden.  In the middle of the living room rug were several unmentionables from the laundry room.  On the stairway landing, Pete the cat was totally freaked out and very hungry.  Upstairs, the Joan Walsh Anglund doll given to me by a cherished friend was found face down on the carpet, her right arm severed, lovely pink dress in tatters, and her hat hanging on by a thread.  The companion blue doll was lucky, she came through it with only a mess of seriously disheveled hair.

There is a reason why Duke is an outside dog. 

I’m a fair shot with a pistol; I can sure as heck nail a 100 lb black lab at a few feet.  Only my love for my husband, who loves that dog almost as much as he loves me, is stopping me from grabbing his 22 and unloading a clip into that slobbery nuisance.  But the more I clean up after The Incident, the more I am thinking his days are numbered.   Possibly it is time for him to live on the family ranch – far, far away.

Those darned French doors in the living room.  For the past 7 years getting them securely locked is a problem, so my husband keeps ‘fixing’ them.  The others times Duke got in with free roam of the house netted small losses with large amounts of annoyance on my part.  But this time, he outdid himself. 

We arrived home this afternoon after a wonderful, fun and relaxing weekend at the home of our son and daughter-in-law for their 3 yr old’s birthday party.  Truly an enjoyable time.  I had steeled myself for the damage, and was most concerned about the Grandkids Room.  My son called me yesterday to report that Duke the dog had once again broken into the house and that Grandma Bear (of the Berenstain Bears) had been the worst casualty.  I could tell that he was probably downplaying the situation.  Little did I know.  He secured the door before he left, but like I said – those doors are problematic.  Duke figured out how to get in again and greeted us inside the house when we walked in.

The pictures don’t really do it justice as my husband had already kicked into high gear and started to clean up, no doubt worried about how I would react to the disaster scene.  I considered calling FEMA, but decided I needed to clean it up myself and begin the grieving process as I worked my way through the incredible mess.

Other than the Grandkids Room, I guess the worst part was the dining room where I had gathered all the Christmas things, including some next year’s gifts, onto the dining table in preparation for putting up Christmas when I got home.  Instead I ended up wading through a sea of shredded plastic bags – Duke loves plastic bags – , mangled stuffed toys, tooth-marked gift books, half-eaten CD’s (packaging too) and tiptoeing around shattered Spode china, broken crystal coasters, opened candy canes and punctured boxes.

I discovered that Duke prefers candy canes over Godiva chocolate (great, we have a dog who is not only destructive but also has poor taste), brunettes over blondes and while he is capable of destroying Hallmark keepsake ornament packaging is disinterested in the ornaments themselves.   He likes to select ladies undergarments from the laundry basket.   And strangely enough, I learned that he can read -  a small book my husband had received in his Christmas stocking was left in perfect condition on our bedroom floor.  It had selections by author John Grogan (Marley and Me) and was titled Bad Dogs Have More Fun.

I was pretty calm at first.  After all, I knew Grandma Bear was no more and had already searched the internet trying to find a replacement.  When I saw the dining room I began to get more upset, realizing the damage and the cleaning I would have to do after the long ride home.   At the top of the stairs my heart started to pound when I saw that the entrance to each room paved with trash from the small trash baskets.  But when I walked into the Grandkids Room, I couldn’t help it – I let out a small cry and began to weep.  The other stuff was just that – stuff.  But the sight of that special doll mangled, with her pantaloons halfway off and face down on the floor as if she had been violated, was the last straw.  She’s so old and unique I don’t know if I can find a  replacement, but even if I can it won’t be the same as receiving from a special friend who had owned it for years and out of love gave it to me.  Not the same at all.

By the time I got to the upstairs office, it hardly phased me that the trash basket was overturned and papers were everywhere, the catfood container was empty and the top was chewed off, the cat bowl I had already found in pieces strewn between up and downstairs, and a printer cord was partially worked over in the floor.  There was also evidence that Duke had snacked in the litter box, but unfortunately I don’t think it was enough to hurt him.

I went downstairs and calmly asked my husband for his wallet so I could go to the pet store.  No wonder Pete the cat was hungry, he hadn’t eaten in 2 days and he likely was a terrified witness to a weekend of canine gluttonous rampage.   I also informed my husband that when I had tallied the cost of the items we would have to replace I would let him.  To his credit he was busy downstairs in the living room, kitchen, laundry room and dining room sweeping and clearing debris.   Quietly.   Here’s what the weekend cost him so far:

Books                                                                                                                   $34

Grandma Bear                                                                                                       $32

1 baggie of my brother’s homemade beef jerky

2 of the Three Bears                                                                                              TBD

1 box of goldfish                                                                                                    $04

1 bag animal crackers                                                                                             $01

Spode butter dish        (eBay price)                                                                         $36

Catfood, food bowl, food container, flea medicine                                                   $47

Hallmark keepsake box                                                                                           TBD

2 new boxed tubes of toothpaste                                                                              $03

1 tape gun                                                                                                                $14

1 silver snowflake trivet                                                                                             $13

1 Peanuts character stocking stuffer                                                                           $03

1 JW Anglund doll, 13” original (similar ones on ebay start @)                                   $40

1 miniature stuffed bear                                                                                              $06

1 very unhappy wife                                                                                                 ____

            Subtotal, pending TBD items                                                                        $233

I realize that I don’t have to replace all the stuff  that was destroyed.    I’m willing to forgive the goldfish and animals crackers and beef jerky, and I’ll even throw in the toothpaste and a couple of stocking stuffers.  It’s still going to cost him over $200.   Not to mention the cost of repairing those French doors, which WILL be fixed once and for all, and soon.  Pretty hefty price tag for the privilege of owning man’s best friend.  

Over time I’ll get over the stuff and the time spent cleaning up after man’s – not woman’s – best friend.  I’ll probably even get over the doll, or maybe send her off to a doll hospital.  They have them you know; can’t imagine how much it costs to have a collector doll repaired.  None of the websites show a price list, you have to email them and get a custom quote.   But I won’t be joining Duke’s fan club any time soon, if ever.  Sure, he’s handsome, friendly, good with kids, and doesn’t bark too much and he’s extremely loyal to my husband.  But’s he’s also smelly, has a tail the size of a baseball bat, snorts on me every time I go out on the back porch, nips at my clothes, steps on my bare feet, and every chance he gets HE CHEWS ON THE STUFFED TOYS IN MY GRANDKIDS’ ROOM!

I just went downstairs to find Duke inside, stretched out on the newly cleaned rug at my husband’s feet.  I’m going to go clean my pistol.