Poppy is a chewer.
I spend my days constantly watching her. I have learned that if she is unattended, for even a minute, she will find something to chew on.
Therefore… I watch.
She has a particular penchant for drinks coasters.
Whilst busy painting upstairs last week, I was enjoying some unusual peace and quiet. As I had left the two dogs contentedly sleeping next to each other, I felt sure the silence was nothing to be concerned about.
After about an hour, I checked on them and found that poppy had been hard at work on yet another coaster.
Moving the coasters onto the sideboard is no deterrent. She seems to take it as a challenge to scale the back of the sofa in order to reach the contra banned treasure. I must remove all coasters from any surface and move them on to the, as yet unreachable, kitchen counters, or else we are condemned to ring marks on our surfaces.
Tissues. Tissues are cocaine for Poppy.
I must always, always ensure that the kitchen chairs are tucked underneath the table whenever I leave the room, or else I am certain to return to find Poppy happily sitting in the middle of the table, surrounded by shredded tissues.
Worse still, she has no issue sticking her head into the wastebasket to fish out disposed-of tissues to make into gross confetti.
I admit I am bit of a neat freak.
I hate clutter and mess and, as a result, I own several storage boxes.
One of these boxes doubles as an occasional table beside my favourite chair in the TV room. It is a very pleasant, chocolate brown, faux leather box, to match the REAL leather sofa that Poppy has already kindly destroyed for us.
Immediately upon arrival at the house, she began to chew on the box. I decided it was not a massive issue as I could always turn the box around to hide the hole she had created. Realising she was not at the end of her chewing phase, we opted to duct tape the hole up and leave it in situ, just in case she chewed another corner off.
Just as well we did… I present the duct taped box.
Do not be mistaken. Poppy does not limit her destruction to the confines of the house.
Lately, we have been enjoying some very rare and very welcome sunshine here in Ireland.
The OH and I have been relishing sitting outside in the garden at any given opportunity. Due to Poppy’s relentless campaign of terror on my much loved and cared for flower beds, we have purchased a long line and a stake, which limits her running around to just shy of the flower beds. The line does not, however, deny her access to our deck.
It turns out the half-rotting deck is ambrosia to Poppy. We frequently hear a ripping noise and then see this flash of white, as she makes off with a piece of decaying wood.
Our vague and distant plans to replace the deck with a stone patio seem to be becoming more pressing. We like to joke that Poppy is helping us with the removal of the old deck…
Her baby teeth appear to have all been lost and replaced by her forever teeth, so I am at a loss as to why she continues to chew everything in sight. She has more chew toys than any dog has a right to own, and yet she prefers to gnaw on my furniture, shoes, anything she can get her furry little jaws on.
So I continue to watch over her, my throat sore from repeatedly yelling, “Poppy! No!”, doomed to never again sit for any period of time without having to leap out of my seat to take some stolen item out of her mouth.
Will this phase ever end I ask myself…