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Dog day afternoon

You just cant make this stuff up. I walked into my house a little while ago, and all hell broke loose.

Let me set the scene. My son and his girlfriend left for Arkansas on Monday for a wedding and to visit his father. I had agreed to dog-sit for their dogs, Casanova, a golden retriever, and Dutchess, a German shepherd. Both dogs, along with our dog Skye, are less than 2 years old.

It hasnt exactly been smooth sailing; on day one, they discovered where I keep my yarn, and in an episode eerily like just over a year ago when Skye had taken an entire ball of yarn and wrapped it around all the shrubs and trees in the back yard, Dutchess had taken two full balls of yarn, one still attached to a sock I had started knitting last winter that was blue, gray and white and the other, Christmas green. These 2 formerly neatly wrapped balls of yarn were strewn all over the house, never to be disentangled again. I trashed them.

On day 2, or maybe just into day 3, Scott woke up at 1:30 a.m. to discover Dutchess penchant for garbage. My son had warned us, and we had forgotten. So all of our kitchen garbage was strewn throughout the kitchen, eating area and into the living room. Scott did as well as any other nearly naked, sleepy man on a work night could do; he threw the worst of it away, leaving the smaller bits for morning. And me.

I soon learned that Dutchess can open the back sliding door, which is OK mostly because its fenced in. Its these 90 degree, humid days that are a problem. She opens the door to let the dogs out and the A/C kicks on. National Grid loves Dutchess.

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