“What in the world is going on here?”
That, or something like it, was my exclamation when I saw the mess Thursday morning created by our black, Labradore Retriever, Allie, who sees herself as queen of our environment. In other words, everything I “think” is mine, is really hers unless she doesn’t want it and then it’s mine.
As a matter of fact, since she came to live with us in 1995 carried into the house in my sister’s handbag, she’s destroyed my Ryrie Study Bible containing 20 years’ worth of notes, the handle on my Dooney & Bourke purse, my kitchen wallpaper, an oak coffee table, an oak rocking chair, my den carpet, my hallway carpet and various other selected areas of carpet that have lured her into pulling it up or chewing it into oblivion. Numerous Polly Pocket and Barbie accessories have also fallen victim to the carnage.
Allie has been a wonderful member of our family, helping to raise grand children from the cradle and serving as a loyal friend. Her 70-pound stature can be imposing when standing between a sleeping child and anything else. Throughout her life, she’s found it her job to stand watch whenever sleeping babies are in the house, and for five years, it was her nightly station to sleep across the foot of our daughter’s bed or in the doorway of her room until Jamie left for college.
Allie has grown up with one of our adopted grandchildren, Raigan, for whom “Allie, out!” was one of her earliest phrases. It was never unusual to turn a corner in our house and catch a glimpse of Raigan lying on her back to watch a favorite children’s video with her head resting on Allie who was curled up around her.
With that kind of history, I guess I can overlook Wednesday morning when the mess I found was the remains of my lunch. She had dug it out of my bag while I was getter ready to go to work. She ate my hard-boiled eggs, shells and all, as well as the plastic bag they were in. I’ll have to find a higher spot for my lunch from now on.
