This, then, would be why my house is always cluttered with wood chips and twigs.I try to keep an eye on Sebastian so that he doesn't drag in chunks of wood from the woodstack or shreds of papyrus, or stuff we've stacked for kindling and never got around to putting in the kindling barrel. But he managed to slip this one into the house without me knowing about it.
He knows he's not supposed to do this, and that is why the picture shows him lying very still: if he doesn't move, maybe I will not have seen him with the stick and won't take it away from him.
There was a spot of evening sun that I wanted to catch on the front porch, so I took my camera and went, leaving the dog with the stick.
I didn't have to take the stick away from the young hound: when I came back in from the front porch, Howie had taken it away from him.
Even though Howie hates the camera, he was jealous that I stopped to snap a picture, and so stole Seb's toy and crunched a good bit of it to smithereens. Jealous? My darling Howie? You betcha. He doesn't even like it if I look at Sebastian too long. Nothing can convince Howie that he is foremost in my heart, as far as dogs go.Gee, thanks, How, for adding to the wood chips in the kitchen and living room.
Both dogs were disappointed when I refused to give them any of the chicken wings whose smell perfumed the house.Can it be that their wood-chipping was a kind of revenge?
