You Do Not Want to Incur the Wrath of my Dogs

Friday night, after the children went to bed, I was having a perfectly peaceful evening.  The Greatest was working.  All four children were safely snuggled in their beds.  I was enjoying the quiet.  Resting.  Knitting.  It was good for my soul.

Then the wild rumpus began.

Small dog and boy dog are rambunctious dogs.  They like to run and play with one another.  They love to throw themselves at the windows to get at the birds outside.  And don't get me started on the cat that loves to come and lay in our front yard every evening flicking his tail while my dogs whine and howl at the injustice of life.  How dare I make them stay in doors while that cat is defiling our front yard with his very existence.  But by eleven o'clock the dogs can usually be found snoring at my feet.  I love to sit and knit with the snoring dogs.

Only Friday night the dogs were not peacefully snoring at my feet.  They were both in small dog's crate.  I wasn't precisely sure what they were doing in small dog's crate, but it involved some snarling and growling and rocking the entire crate side to side, inching it across the floor.

I moved to break it up, and at the sound of my voice the dogs scattered.  Small dog ran into the laundry room.  Boy dog ran into his own crate.  I was going to go sit back down on the couch.  I actually turned to go, but then I spun back around to look in small dog's crate to see what they had.

Oh the carnage.

Oh the horror.

They had a skein of my white yarn.  They had taken a skein of yarn right out of the yarn cabinet.  An irreplaceable skein of yarn that I unraveled from a yard sale sweater.  I needed every yard of that yarn for this year's batch of Weasley Sweaters (Christmas sweaters if you're new around here.)

My previously pristine hank now looked like this.

I wanted to cry.

Can you see all the dog hair?

Gross.

But I need every yard of that yarn.

So Saturday I patiently untangled that entire skein.  I carefully picked out every stupid piece of dog hair.  It went from being one pretty ball to four, but four is better than nothing right?  It is better than throwing the entire thing out right?

All is well that ends well right?

Yeah.  No.

On Sunday I took a morning nap.  I woke up to find this on my counter.

The dogs had gotten in the yarn cabinet again and taken another hank precious, priceless white yarn and destroyed it with extreme prejudice.

Frankly, I'm surprised they are still alive.

I looked in the yarn cabinet to see if there were any other casualties and I discovered three of the four balls I had wound the day before were gone.

Frantically we searched the house for the missing balls.  We searched high and low. behind furniture, underneath couches, to no avail.  The balls were not to be found.

I feared small dog was just dumb enough to have eaten them.

Then I realized it.  Take a closer look at this picture.

My missing balls of yarn were on the kitchen counter the entire time.  They didn't get a new hank out.  They attacked the same dismember hank of yarn.

I don't know what the yarn did to them to deserve this, but they were out for vengeance.

Today I sat down, and my three balls of yarn are now wound into six.

I guess six small balls are better than nothing right?

Just to be on the safe side I'm going to store them on a tall shelf.  Maybe hidden behind some books?  My own little witness protection program for my yarn.

Or maybe I should just make them the yarn apologize to the dogs?  That always works with the kids right?