Silence Of The Hounds

Remember this guy?

In case you were wondering, yes, he’s still a bad dog. A VERY bad dog.

My friend Pam came to visit over the weekend, and after spending an hour at our house, she swiftly concluded, “I mean, he’s cute and everything, but that dog is WILD.”

And he is.
While she was visiting, he spent the first 5 minutes barking at us from the top of the basement stairs, which he is too afraid to climb down. Brian tried carrying him downstairs and he go so scared he peed on Brian’s shirt. We brought him back upstairs and gave him a toy, only to listen to him gallop back and forth above our heads for the next 15 minutes. I went upstairs to check on him and found the stuffed animal headless, mutilated, and eviscerated, stuffing everywhere, and Milo starting to “tenderize” a cabinet door by licking it (which, we have learned, is his preamble to an outright chew-fest). So we put him in his crate to prevent damage to our cabinets, and lo and behold, he starts to bark incessantly. A few minutes later, his non-stop barking is accompanied by a rhythmic BANG BANG BANG as he hops/scoots his crate across the floor in a desperate attempt to breach the doorway.

As Pam so aptly put it, “I feel like I’m in Jurassic Park.”

(And in case you were wondering, this is as far as he’s gotten to date. Thank god the turn radius for a 36'' crate is lousy)

Pam will not be coming back to our house, and she told me she’s pretty sure she’s developed a case of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from witnessing such animal mayhem.

Unlike Pam, Brian and I are confident beyond a shadow of a doubt that we’ve developed PTSD and a handful of other psychological disorders since acquiring our own little hell-hound.

Let’s take a tour of the damage, shall we?

Grandma's Chest

Custom-Made Bowed Window

Door Frame

Not included: 1 book, borrowed from a coworker, titled Life of Pi, that he destroyed on Sunday while I was taking a 5 minute shower.

And the most recent damage? We bought a steel cable long-leash and erected a line between two trees so that Milo could be let outside without running away (because nothing ruins your morning – and your 3-inch heels – faster than having to chase a wild puppy around your neighbor’s yard). We also bought a harness for him, because if we attached the leash to his collar, he could easily pull out of it.
5 minutes after putting the harness on him, I look over and he’s managed to get his mouth through the chest piece (don’t ask me how).

This was the result:

Apparently, Milo can chew through a thick nylon harness, designed to support the weight of a 130lb dog, in approximately 10 seconds.

They say that desperate times call for desperate measures, and after viewing the above photos, I feel confident that you’d agree that we are, in fact, in desperate times.

So, I’d like you to witness our newest desperate measure.

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to our own little Hannibal Lecter.

Before you jump on the animal cruelty bandwagon, I’d like to point out that it’s only on when we can’t directly supervise him, and we’re sure to take it off frequently for him to eat and drink. But yes, we’ve been reduced to muzzling our little darling boy in a desperate attempt to salvage what’s left of the house.

Still think we’re cruel? Well, it’s either this, or put him back out on the streets.

Although I’m not sure what would be crueler in this situation:
Exposing Milo to the streets, or exposing the streets to Milo.

I’ll have to get back to you on that one…