About a month ago, my mom was in at Style Mutt, a little dog store in Rocky River, Ohio. The owner of the store-- a pug lady herself-- had just rescued a puggle and named her Pippi. My mom told her that I had a puggle, and that I dressed her up as Pippi Longstocking for Halloween.
"Does her dog sometimes go crazy? Because mine will go nuts. It's why I named her Pippi," the store owner said.
"Well, she seemed pretty calm when she visited for Christmas. But I've heard things," my mom responded.
Fast forward to this past Tuesday. In previous posts, I've mentioned that Alice spends a good portion of her time stealing the kitchen rugs. Her MO is always the same: she runs around the house waving them like a flag, then piles them up in the middle of the living room with some of her toys and sits upon them.
We've pretty much given up hope that we'll ever use the rugs for their intended purpose again. Each night I put them back in their respective spots. Every morning I wake up to find them piled in front of the TV. I don't know why I even bother to put them away-- blind optimism, I suppose. Or maybe it's just good old-fashioned OCD.
Though this is a regular occurrence, every once in a while her pile becomes so grandiose, it's impossible to ignore. Tuesday was one of those days.
Here's the overall scene:
And here's the contents.
A fabric grocery bag, a torn-up paper shopping bag (performed by Alice in another room and carried out into the living room) and four toys, including a boombox, a long dog, a tail ball, and a mouse, who was wrapped up in a piece of the shopping bag:
And on the outskirts, a green lobster, which she'd pulled the stuffing out through its eye:
I don't think I've ever seen Alice happier with herself.