I Should Have Stopped At Shake A Paw

Yesterday the dog finally worked up enough courage to go down the stairs all by her onesy.  Then she did it again.  There was great rejoicing.  The sounds of "Good dog", and "brave dog" were heard all around the household.  This morning, when I ventured downstairs in the hopes of changing the inside temperature from 9 degrees to something a little more tropical, she was quite happy to follow me without any encouragement from my part.  Her descent was anything but graceful mind you, seeing as the last three stairs seemed to be more like a controlled fall then actual climbing down, but she followed me happily.

While I was busy scrunching newspaper, making a kindling grid, stacking reasonably dry wood, and lighting the whole she-bang, Shit For Brains, proceeded to chew on logs, insulation, laundry baskets, newspaper, and of course my slippers.  Words such as, "Stop that."  "Quit chewing that."  "Let go of my slippers you retard", were heard emanating from the bowels of the Shack (palatial estate). 

Then tonight as I made my way down the stairs to "throws another log on the fire", I flipped the switch on in the basement and lo and behold but who should already be down there?  None other than the Spawn of Satan herself.  Spawn, or The Beave, as I have taken to calling her, had been using her newly grown front teeth to taste the bottom stars. 

Now you may think that I was a might peeved at her, and possibly myself, for actually encouraging her to learn this new trick.  And of course you would be correct.  What is that saying?  Let sleeping dogs lie.  It should really be, let dogs who are too scared to do something continue to be scared about doing it for as long as humanly (or canine-anly) possible.  In order to rectify the situation I took her for a nice long walk this afternoon and proceeded to have a productive chat with her.  I told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was to cease and desist all of these doggy shenanigans.  You will be happy to learn that she responded well to my positive discipline by jumping up and down, burying her head in the snow, slobbering on my hands, nipping at the back of my heels, ripping my pant legs, and yipping every once in awhile when I managed to make contact with my fir stick of pain.  All in all, I don't think she will do it again.