To ALL 13 message-leavers on my answering machine: speak of the devil. Or the beagle. Just a few minutes ago (at 11pm! she’s newly-energized! oh crap!) Girl the Beagle, in a frenzied assault on the rubber treat-filled toy, unplugged the answering machine.

Wouldn’t you know—I finally tell myself I’ll listen to my messages this weekend and that little dog put yet another wrench in my works.

She is INTO that toy again, now that she’s been “dogupunctured” (my word, more to come on this topic as soon as I finish writing the post).

She is so energetic tonight that she—for the first time ever—crawled under the bed to bark at and eventually triumphantly carry out, the flippin’ rubber toy. Sure I could take it away from her…

…but it’s so hard to pull it away from her when she’s so damn funny to watch, she hasn’t had this kind of energy in years, and when she has a sucker for her person.

Now she’s in the living room, undoubtedly unplugging a light fixture or 2 and knocking down whatever pile I may have had there. Sigh…