On Milo, And Regret

Milo the Destroyer of Worlds suckered me into leaving him out of his crate this morning. He was running laps like a GD maniac the whole time I was getting ready for work, and when I went to put him in his crate, he gave me this look like, “put me in that 2’ x 3’ cage one more time and so help me god, I’ll call the ASPCA on you.” And then he gave me the Bambi eyes:



Jesus Christ, how could you resist that?

So I swept through the house, picking up everything I though he would want to gnaw on/piss on/otherwise destroy. Unfortunately, I was unable to pick up the couch or any of the kitchen cabinets, but at least our shoes are safe.

I think.

The problem is, Milo is going through this phase where he thinks everything belongs to him. And unfortunately, he likes to chew on his belongings; Hey, you don't get the name Milo the Destroyer of Worlds for nothing. Last week, he destroyed 2 pairs of my shoes in a 24-hour period. I’ve been in mourning ever since. And this wood thing is ridiculous. He finds these chunks of wood lying around our fireplace, brings them on the couch, and proceeds to shred it to splinters. I know he eats some of it, because a lot of time his poop looks like mulch (yes, I look at his poop. It’s the easiest way to figure out how bad he’s been over the past 9 hours). But most of it gets left all over the couch for me to clean up. He's also taken a liking to the molding lately. And by liking, I mean that he scrapes his front teeth across it to remove the paint.

Ummm....WTF.

And when he's not chewing on wood or my Kenneth Cole Pumps, he's collecting things. Often times when he’s left alone or unattended, he runs around the house, gathering up anything he finds into a pile in the livingroom. Shoes, T-shirts, bras, unused tampons, plastic bags, DVDs…you name it, he’s relocated it. First it was cute. Then, it got a little weird, especially that time when he added not one but TWO of my brassieres to the pile. (He has a bra thing, and I’m not quite sure what that means). Now, it’s just really, really inconvenient.

And let’s not even discuss the battery scare we had this past weekend…

The last time I left him out for the entire span of a work-day, I came home to a pile that consisted of shredded paper that later turned out to be credit card bills, socks, his leash, two plastic bags, a roll of paper towels, a chew-toy, a pillow…and urine. I’m not sure if he peed on the pile, or if he piled the stuff on top of his pee, but either way, everything was soaked.

He is a bad, bad dog.

Of course, leaving him in his crate does not necessarily mean that everything is safe. Milo has figured out how to move the crate. I really don’t know how he does it, but I suspect it’s some sort of bouncing, scooting thing. The first time he did it, he had only moved a few inches—just close enough to pull a backpack strap in to the crate and gnaw it to bits. The next time he did it, he had moved across the kitchen. Shortly thereafter, I came home and found that I couldn’t open the front door. Milo had spun the crate around and backed it down the hallway until it was flat against the door. I swear, someday I’ll be driving home from work and see Milo, in his crate, hopping down route 70. Just you wait.

So yeah, he’s definitely a weird little dog, but part of me is just happy that he has so much personality. Adopting from a shelter is always a gamble, and even though he was just 4 months when we got him, a hard life can really suck the joy out of dogs.

Well, lucky for us, Milo is full of joy.

And urine.

And parts of my shoes.

And, after today, god knows what else.

I think I’m beginning to regret my decision….