There once was a dog named Flapjack, who never really grew into his ears.

“The better to hear you with!“
Despite the ears, listening and behaving are not exactly Flapjack’s strong suit. He’s a stealthy little dog with his own agenda. The rules do not apply.
Because of this, Flapjack and his “brother” Charlie, are barricaded from the dining room where a lot of my pen/pencil/notebook collection lives. Things are mostly stored in boxes, but there’s an embarrassing level of disarray. I have great plans. And I try. Then I lose steam and go read a book instead. I really hesitate to share, but what the hell…

There is clearly work to be done. [Massive understatement]
Cardiac arrest.
He was not in the mood to give up his “chew toy.” Despite those big ears, our yelling had zero effect, except to convince him that this was a real prize—something he should definitely hang onto. He clamped down harder and let out a low growl.
Dog for sale. Cheap.
Plan B: A bribe of plain old dog food convinced him to release his find.
As you can see, the cap was chewed and damaged but remained intact, as did the plastic bottle.
And…thank YOU, Robert Oster for chew-proof ink bottles and caps! This could have been a very different–and very orange–story.
Worst dog ever. And yet so very adorable. This might be the flapjack paradox!
I will be passing the link to this entry on to my sister Joan, who has a Yorkshire terrier from hell. She may be interested to know she is not the only one! -Kate
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This story reminds me of my Minature Pinscher when he was younger. He has gone through his nine lives already… my husband swears he’s a cat.
Today he vomited and collapsed after eating. He’s almost 15. We are looking into it. I would give anything for those days of sweet mischief again.
So sorry! I miss our dear sweet older dogs so much. Thinking of you!
That story has everything!