Tank says: It wasn't me.

Our boxer has a wee separation anxiety problem. 

He's a perfect gentleman (albeit a drooly one) when we're home, but when we leave, he either shreds everything in the bathroom trash cans or teethes on Nature Boy's plastic toys.  He has a particular fondness for Bionicles.

And since every boy toy is likely a RARE COLLECTIBLE (in the boy's mind anyway), each episode of mastication results in a dog lecture.  I will chronicle the most recent.

But first, this is how Tank normally looks.

This is how he looks when he's getting his You Ate Another Toy?! lecture.

"I don't have ears!  Everyone knows ears are required for chewing up children's toys."

"I seal my ears to your accusations!"

"I have no ears.  Shouldn't you be securing medical care instead of lecturing?"

Perhaps I can intimidate them into shutting up by looking more like a pitbull.

___________________________________________________

(That black blur behind Tank is Raven getting the hell out of Dodge.  She's cautious like that.)


Tank is staunch in his denial. He's all, "What Bionicle?"

So I produce the evidence.

And still he swears, "It wasn't me."

I don't believe him.