Mr Sentimental

Reid is the sensitive one in the family. Now our dog, Dixie, has a history of eating things people like. Somewhere in her primitive canine brain, she identifies something with a high value and, when you leave her too long alone, or if she has otherwise perceived a slight, she will eat something of yours. For a long time, her favorite target was pants. She loved eating the inseam out of pants. When she was done with them, they would look like home-made chaps. Not a very nice way for a pair of pants to go down in history, but we've generally kept a very clean house since getting Dixie nearly a dozen years ago.

[Digressive mini-story: Early in our life with Dixie, I asked a co-worker to dog-sit Dixie. The co-worker was a young, blond California girl named Joan. Dixie ate all of her underpants. Thinking of the standard rules of workplace etiquette, I couldn't see my way clear to replacing the underpants or even giving her a Victoria's Secret gift card. I believe Dixie's behavior went un-compensated.]

Anyhow, since the flow of pants dried up, Dixie has turned her attention to errant pieces of paper, anything in a plastic bag, low-hanging trash, whatever she can get her hands on. One time, we were bringing in groceries and we set the bags on the floor, and then returned to the car for more. When we returned Dixie was "hiding" behind the leg of a chair (picture a ten-inch wide cocker spaniel behind a two-inch chair leg) and in her mouth, hanging out a good six inches from both sides of her mouth, was a loaf of French bread. She was standing perfectly still, in the hopes, perhaps, of maybe avoiding detection.

So tonight the family went to dinner near where the kids go to school. We headed home and when we arrived, as I was kicking off my shoes, I heard my son crying. He had gone inside before me. Heading into the house I saw my son, clutching a shredded copy of "Arthur Writes a Story," on his knees, weeping. Dixie had eaten the book. Reid was inconsolable. He said the book was his favorite. He could barely catch his breath.

Amid the ordinary parental response to calm him and hold him and tell him everything was alright, I confess I was a little bit proud that somehow we had instilled in him such a deep appreciation for literature.

Also, he received from his grandparents a pre-holiday gift of Christmas pajamas and a sweatband. This photo was taken the night we opened the package. Click for a non-insane photo of Sania sporting crazy-long hair.