Appetite For Destruction

Yesterday I had an hour before work due to an error in my call time. This is a dangerous thing, what with the hotel I normally work at being right next to a shopping mall. But I already had a mission, so there would be no wandering around the mall aimlessly buying crap I didn't need.

I had to buy a new comforter for my bed. Actually, I had to replace the new comforter for my bed that I bought sometime before Thanksgiving. That was when Macy's was having a sale and I found an entire "bed ensemble" for 1/2 off. Before I bought it, I decided to once and for all look up all the words that I have been reading in all the ads for bedding. I have a confession to make. With all my worldly sophistication, my po' white trash roots show when it comes to bedding. Growing up, we had a fitted sheet, a sheet, a pillow (singular) with pillow case and blankets for the cold. We usually all had homemade afghans that my mom knitted. I liked to keep one folded at the foot of my bed for extra feet warmth.

So up until a few months ago, I actually had no idea what a duvet, a duvet cover, a pillow sham, a bedskirt, a dust ruffle or a coverlet actually was. Now I know, but I'll be surprised if I ever actually buy and use one. But as I said, I did buy a sheet set with a comforter, and I confess that it came with pillow shams, but they are still in the original plastic on a shelf in my closet. The set wasn't terribly expensive, the thread count wasn't particularly high, but the bedding all matched and it was a deep burgundy and gold which I love for bedding.

Unfortunately, here's what the comforter looked like shortly after Christmas:


Near as I can figure, Riley had a bone or a stick hidden in the bed, and when he decided to retrieve it he found it right in the middle of the bed, albeit covered up. I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he attempted to move the obstruction. But since his only interest ultimately was to get whatever was buried there, chewing a hole seemed like a very efficient, not to mention dog-like, thing to do. Rendering my new matching bedding no longer new, and decidedly less matching.

To further illustrate the power of his lust for ripping and rending, here's a picture I snapped of the aftermath a 1/2 hour after I presented him with a Christmas squeaky toy:


As you can see, there is nothing left but toy innards and bits of felt. And the squeaker, which near as I can tell must be single-mindedly located and eradicated as fast as possible, sits deflated and discarded next to his paw, never to vex another dog with that infernal squeaking.