Coming home from the Monday morning water run has become a bit of a stressful thing since Tobie decided he could chew and scatter whatever he wanted if Uncle Joel wasn’t home. I cleared out the lower cabinets and bathroom of targets of opportunity, sealed up the kitchen trash, closed the bedroom door – and he still found things worthy of destruction. I don’t think it’s anxiety, this is just the way he passes empty time and I expect he’ll outgrow it. Even when I go to Ian’s to shower, he carries firewood away from the woodstove and chews it up in the main room while he’s waiting for me to finish – and then he knows exactly where I am so it’s not separation anxiety. Just a bored puppy.
My arrivals have added to his stress, since I don’t take coming inside to find the cabin trashed…well. But it may be we’ve come to an agreement on that? Maybe? This time, and the last time I left him alone for a few hours, he contented himself with his own massive pile of chew toys – and of course got praised lavishly when I found he hadn’t laid waste to my stuff.
Upon thoughtful reflection, Tobie may have decided that lavish praise, hugs and treats are preferable to getting yelled at and swatted.