About three years ago, when I was younger, a whole lot dumber–and arguably at least temporarily insane—I gave a tiny, joyful bundle of black Labrador retriever puppy fur to My Beloved as a gift. They became inseparable. As with our grandkids, My Beloved could see nothing but wonderfulness in Sadie.
In many ways, Sadie is quite a lady. She’s well-behaved and a joy to be around most of the time.
But, for about the first 18 months of her life she had a chewing problem.
Actually, we were the ones with the problem. She was the one with the out-sized appetite.
Most young dogs are content with chewing shoes and chew-toys. Sadie couldn’t be bothered with such small things. She had her mind—and teeth—set on much larger things.
At first it was a pillow. She ripped one to pieces, eating parts of it.
Then ALL of them.
When we stopped repairing and buying replacement pillows, Sadie moved onto couch cushions.
That still didn’t sate Sadie’s voracious appetite.
Next it was the couch itself. A nibble here. A nibble there.
Then the whole back panel.
We replaced the panel.
She ate the replacement.
We tried everything we could think of to get her to stop, but nothing worked.
She then even began gnawing at the wooden frame inside the couch.
That was it! I’d had it. Drastic action was needed!
It was either the couch, that dog, or me.
If you know My Beloved, you know there is NO WAY it was going to be that dog.
The way I view it, our poor couch took one for the team.
Yes, I put it out of its misery.
I grabbed a mallet, saw, and crow bar and finished off what had become a pathetic pile of gnarled material in our living room.
Thankfully, Daisy left the rest of our furniture alone with barely a nibble here or there in the eighteen months or so since I’d said my last fond farewell to our couch.
I never did figure out what that poor couch ever did to Daisy—other than apparently being irresistibly delicious.