Why We Can’t Have Things, ANYthing
In the past, I blogged about “Why We Can’t Have Nice Things.” This week, Houston showed me that we couldn’t have things, ANYthing.
We can’t have the things that normal people take for granted. We can’t have toilet paper, wastebaskets, garbage bags, sheets, notebooks, books, magazines, towels, furniture, plants, and panties.
When I post pictures of Houston’s chewing escapades people are shocked. My mother asked, “Is that normal?”
He is a puppy.
Gorbachev, our Samoyed, opened the pantry one evening. Dwight and I returned to find the entire living room dusted with a five-pound bag of flour.
A few years ago, when Gus was learning how to be a dog, he partied with a pillow in the living room. I cleaned up feathers for months.
Whenever Houston gets something, ANYthing, it’s my fault. It is because I didn’t close the door to the powder room or left something within his reach.
Houston will grow up.
And, we will be able to have things again.