Dear Goddamned Beagle,
A few weeks ago you had very serious surgery. I was told to keep you quiet, and to prevent you from jumping and running.
After picking up some Xanax “for the dog,” I purchased some enrichment toys that I thought might keep you occupied during your convalescence, among them a Snuffle Mat.
For a few
days moments my plan worked, and you remained relatively stationary in your x-pen hospital suite of bed, snuffle mat, bully stick, water and Kongs.
Then you knocked over the three-foot x-pen by scaling it while carrying your Snuffle Mat to the couch.
You healed in record time, and since then your attachment to the Snuffle Mat has grown. I do appreciate that you enjoy the things I get you, but it is completely unacceptable to keep seeding the mat with items retrieved from around the house. It’s for food, beagle. Food I’m supposed to place in it, not you. It is not for pens, not for bottle caps, not for shoe inserts, not for random hair ties, gum wrappers and phone chargers, not for dental floss. Especially not for dental floss, as your amusement at unraveling it, weaving it around the feathers of the mat, chewing, winding and then swallowing it, or attempting to swallow it before requiring my attention as you gag and hack, is just not OK.
I will continue to seek hiding places for the mat that you can’t access. I have tenants in the house, so the refrigerator, my next option, might be off-putting, especially for the Spaniard. They have such traditional ideas about what goes in a fridge. Meanwhile, I’ll try to appreciate that, if nothing else, you’re keeping up with your oral hygiene.