"Who, ME?"

My little Q-Tip addict is now sunning herself on the back of the blanket-covered couch, looking as innocent as a Beatrix Potter bunny. Maybe I’ll nickname her “Princess Ra” when she does this. This is where she fled to after being chased throughout the house with a fan of Q-Tips sticking out of her mouth. She wins because I have to stop to pick up the webs of discarded dental floss that are strewn across the carpeting as if a can of pick-up-stix has exploded. Between the Q-Tips, tree limbs, wood pellets, and cardboard compulsion, I’m wondering if Olive has a fiber deficiency. I could probably feed her a bowl of sawdust, crumpled up cardboard and Q-Tips and she’d be just as happy. Instead, like a moron, I feed her expensive natural and organic dog food. I’m not sure how to keep her from ransacking the bathroom wastebasket like a common junkyard dog. I have to put the lid down on the toilet to keep her from drinking from it as if it’s a slurpee fountain. Now I have to close the bathroom door to keep her from wearing the wastebasket as a silver hat. Maybe I should just seal all the pinholes in the universe to keep her out of trouble. Goofy dog.