October 24, 2005

White Dog was destructive today--whether from pent-up energy or malicious motives was unclear. But she tortured the birds in the tall bushes by jumping at their roosting branches then moved on to shredding a plastic bag that had blown into the yard. Indoors she pulled and chewed at magazines; tangled the bedcovers; and ate the rubber off of the back of the bathroom rug. Bear finally was compromised and White Dog filled the living room with batting pulled from his ruptured arm. Steve's "welcome home" included two welts down his cheek from being pawed.

When White Dog looked up during a rest on the cushions, I couldn't tell if it was soulful contrition or wicked glee I read in her eyes.