Gratitude Day #17: The Sock Edition

Sam is a strange dog.

He is sweet and gentle and lets the kids sit on him and stand him up on his hind legs to "dance" with him. He's tolerant and intelligent and sometimes he's even obedient.

But my oh my is he prone to being "high energy." Even at the advanced age of ten. And when he doesn't get enough exercise, he resorts to desperate measures to get the attention of his owners.

Where desperate measures equals he eats socks.

He doesn't just chew them up like normal dogs do. No, he swallows them. A few days later, they are expelled, if you know what I mean.

The other night we were awakened by Sam every half hour from midnight to 3 am. Eric dragged himself out of bed and braved the chilly night air over and over and over again to let Sam out.

The next day he wouldn't eat and could barely peel himself up off the floor. All day. He looked like he was living his last moments.

Because the laws of dog require that they only have accidents on carpeted areas that are difficult to clean, he'd get up every once in a while and head into the living room to retch and cough.

He was a pitiful, sorry-souled creature.

I left the house for a while and when I came home, he greeted me at the door all waggy-tailed and happy-faced.

Not to be fooled, I instantly searched the house and promptly discovered the reason for his previously sad and sorry state.

He'd eaten not one sock, but FOUR SOCKS. Why, oh why, does a dog feel that he needs to go on such a high-fiber diet???

I have dragged you through this slightly tasteless story to tell you that I am grateful that it's over. With a capital "O." Because Queen Kristin has declared a "no socks are to be found anywhere except on feet and in tightly closed laundry baskets" law in her kingdom. And I'm sure her subjects will obey, because they always do.