Brian was out of town for half of July, part on a mission trip to the Ukraine and the rest in New Orleans for seminary.
While he was gone, Knox apparently had some separation anxiety and went to town on our house.
Two remote controls. As in, he ate one remote. I went and bought a new one. Annnnddd a week later, he ate this one.
|It has GOT to hurt on the way out.|
|The look of guilt. Pure guilt.|
Three pairs of shoes.
A Hair brush. Which came back up pretty quickly.
Two magazines. (I think he more browsed through them and then decided he didn't like any of the recipes. More shredding than ingesting.)
|Please note the red dog bone by the column. Proof that we DO leave him his very own dogs toys to gnaw on while we're not home.|
And some thank you cards I'd written.
To top it all off, we tried to put the leash on him to go on a walk last night and it wouldn't fit around his body. It's only been three weeks and fatty mcfatty pants has gained at least five pounds. UN-believable. I'm pretty sure it's due to ingesting large amounts of rubber and plastic.
On the flip side, he's started killing those horrible crickets and palmetto bugs that sneak into our home by pawing them to death.
I appreciate it greatly and so does my husband.
Because the alternative is that I cover up the very much alive bugs with bowls and containers until Brian gets home so he can kill them.
It's a good thing he's super duper cute.