When Weiss and I came back from Bible study and Wal-Mart around noonish on Tuesday, it looked like a rabid, wild animal went crazy on our front porch. (See photo). I was frustrated because several of my plants--which I have been very careful to baby during the recent freezing weather--were gnawwed up by something's jaws and/or paws. (The blankets you see were covering the plants because it was hovering around freezing for 2 days.) The mailman pulled up just as I witnessed the crime scene, and he thought it was either an opossum or raccoon because of the damage. NOTE: We left the house from the front door at 8:30 AM, and all was well.
Anyway, I got in the door, let Avery in the house, and took a picture of my shredded doormat. (Yes, it is an autumn doormat--I had not put a Christmas one yet.) When Weiss was going down for a nap, my neighbor from across the street came to my door. Shirley told me Avery dug out of the backyard and pawed the lever on the glass door, and wedged her body in the opening, and then began trying to open the paddle lever on the front door. (And shredded my cute doormat into a dozen pieces and my plants in the process...) Shirley put her back in the yard and stuck a bag of leaves in the hole, but when I got home, Avery came in the door, nonchalantly.
This is why almost seven-year-old Avery only has in-house visitations when we are home. That's right, folks--she's no spring chicken--but as a Weimaraner, she remains in a perpetual puppy statehood. This antic is the tip of the iceburg. Zoey, our goldendoodle, can stay inside when we are gone with a cornucopia of food out, which she won't even touch (AMEN), while Avery is banished outside because of her constant, mischievous antics. However, when we're home with Avery, she curls up in a ball and sleeps all day.
Merry Christmas from Avery the Weimaraner. Peace on earth and goodwill towards all men.