Me and Ziggy on Sunday.
Me and Ziggy in 2010.My dog is five and a half years old. For the first year or two of her life she ate more pairs of my underwear than I even knew how to deal with. Seriously. Her poop looked like the 5 for $25 bin at Victoria's Secret. I would get so mad and it was one of the only things that made me excited for her to grow into a normal, adult dog instead of staying the most precious puppy in the entire universe.
She did grow up. She grew into a decent sized sausage dog who could run, play and stopped eating my skivvies. Or so I thought. A few months ago I noticed a pair of my undies in the middle of the floor. I forgot I even had this pair, had never worn them before and when I picked them up they were wet (okay, get your mind out of the gutter). That's when I started to think maybe she had toned down her panty obsession from chewing them up to just slobbering on them a bit, but I quickly forgot about the incident and continued to toss my dirty laundry across the floor on the daily.
A couple other times I noticed a pair here or there in a spot I didn't think I threw them, but then again who ever really knows? It was always suspiciously when I left her inside by herself for longer than she deemed fit, but perhaps it was just a coincidence.
BUT last night my hypotheses were confirmed: she eats my undies when she's pissed.
I was gone the whole day at work, and immediately upon coming home I left again for a concert. I was gone until 11:30ish and she was not happy. So she chewed through one pair of my underwear and left it in the middle of the floor. Just as an extra, "Eff you, ma." She didn't even rip apart the straps like she used to, just ripped a hole and left them where I'd see them as soon as I walked into my room.
And that's the story of how my sausage dog grew up to be just like her mama. The stubborn, codependent part, not the eating undies part. Ew.