I suppose we could call ourselves fortunate doggy parents in that the destructive habits of our 2 rascals are confined to their playthings. Sure, now and then I’ll find one of my outdoor plants knocked over or with some obvious signs of chewing, but at their adult stage in life, they know better, and they also know that the louder the voice, the more trouble they’re in.
That, of course, is why they didn’t seem too concerned when I was annoyed to find Mike with one leg ripped off. Yes I will be the one to repair him, but the Westie gave me a look as if to say, “He’s not YOUR Mike, he’s OURS!”
I shook Mike’s amputated leg in the dachshund’s face and he just stood there.