This here bringer of the pooper to the fun party

Canine time out

This month Chuck turns eleven years old. Vets and trainers have always said that because he’s in such good shape, is relatively small, and is so thoroughly a mutt that he could live for many more years. Recently his compulsion to destroy things has gotten completely out of hand. And I don’t know if it’s a factor of his age or separation anxiety or unresolved resentment that I ever brought home Coco. Regardless, he’s on leash and by my side all day in the new house until I figure it out. Don’t feel sorry for him. If you do, buy the book of poetry he’ll write once this is over.

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