Luckily I have a thing for Bad Boys....

Yeah. Austen's not reeeeeaaalll big on getting put in the kitchen when I leave for work. Every morning is a battle of wills with me telling Austen to go into the kitchen and him standing on the other side of the room and attempting to stare me down. I swear to you, I've never seen as defiant an expression on a dog's face in all my life. If he had the means to do it, he'd flip me the bird.

He finally found a way to let me know how he really feels about the whole "locked in the kitchen while Mom goes to work" scenario:







Yeah. He ripped the zipper off both the cover and inside liner of his bed and then disemboweled the poor thing.



The part that ticked me off the most about the whole situation was the expression on Austen's face when I first saw the carnage. He looked me square in the eyes, his head at a haughty angle with an expression that said, "Yeah, I destroyed m' bed. . .wot are YOU gonna do about it, huh? Nuffink, that's wot! I'd do it again!" (Oh, in my head, Austen has a tough British accent. I named him Austen, but he's no Mr. Darcy.)

Well, joke's on you little man. From now on you'll be in the kitchen all day with NO BED. That'll show you...maybe....