Why You Should Never, Ever Leave a Dog Alone With a Roll of Toilet Paper

I have a dog.

Well, actually, to be honest, I have two. Fortunately, only one of them did something awful enough to earn a public shaming on my blog.

Behold, the harbinger of chaos.

This is Max. He's three years old, and he's the product of an unholy union between a female beagle and a male shih tzu. As you can see, his front half is that of his long-haired, Chinese father and his back half comes from his short-haired, English mother, because genes are strange and mysterious things. 

Despite that fact that he looks like a tiny, buck-toothed bison, we love Max, and in exchange, he tries to not destroy too many of our things. Usually, this arrangement works just fine for everyone involved. 

Usually. 

Two months ago, our family decided that we just didn't have enough dog poop to pick up, and we decided to adopt an eight-week-old Newfoundland puppy we came across online. Introducing the two dogs went smoothly; 30 lb Max growled once to assert his dominance over the soon-to-be-bear-sized newcomer, and all was well. 

With a face like that, I'd be willing to clone her and adopt her twice.

Now, the thing about having two dogs is that it's a lot like having two kids: whatever you give to one, you have to give to the other. If one gets dinner, the other one also wants dinner. If one has a toy, the other one wants the toy too. If one digs up the half-decomposed carcass of a squirrel in the backyard, the other one wants its own mouthful of smelly rodent carrion. And a few nights ago, what the puppy had (that Max desperately wanted) was my attention.

Guinness the puppy had trotted up to me with her leash in her mouth, and, not wanting to put on pants and venture out into the cruel world outside, I made her settle for a hearty game of fetch in the hall. The sound of a forty-pound Newfie thundering up and down a hallway effectively drowns out any sounds of mischief going on in the house, and so when I went to check up on little Max five minutes later, I was surprised at what I found. 

I think I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. 

He does not look the least bit sorry.

On the bright side, the couch looks much more comfortable now.

He was at least considerate enough to leave us half the roll.

Comfortably surveying the carnage.

Needless to say, I was less than thrilled. Toilet paper, as you're probably well aware, is the flimsy material to which all other flimsy materials are compared, and it doesn't take a whole lot of dog saliva to turn it into a mushy white paste. After half an hour of scraping damp, balled-up tissue off the couch cushions, I was forced to give up and let it dry overnight. Max closely supervised the cleaning process, and even made a few valiant efforts to eat the pieces left behind.

While we're glad to see Max get a little extra fibre in his diet, this was a performance we'd rather not see an encore of. Rest assured, from now on, bathroom doors will be closed and all rolls of consumable household papers will be kept up on shelves that his stumpy little shih tzu legs can't reach. This, of course, will force him to seek out more expensive things to destroy. Stay tuned for updates. 

What's the worst thing your dog has ever done? Leave it in the comments.