Just when you think your insane life is? rising from? the ashes of chaos? with some semblance of order, you get a phone call from your dad.? And guess what?? He’s bringing Fergie back.? (Of course, in my head, that last line is sung to the tune of JT’s little ditty).? Oh, yeah.? The Ferganator is coming home.
Basically, this means it’s time to batten down the hatches.? Or, in our case, the junk.? As in, picking it up off the floors.? And the tables (although, not the coffee table–we still don’t have one of those).? Yep, the counter too.? Because the Ferganator knows no boundaries when it comes to creating her own special chew toys.? And alas, she thinks everything is edible.? Even beer cans.
So, yep, she’s finally home.? My son is ecstatic.? In fact, Fergie had to play Candyland with us last night.? ? She even selected the playing cards on her own.? The trouble, of course, was extricating the cards from her? jaw afterwards, but we made it work.? Well, maybe we? lost a card or two.? But really, they give you way too many in that game.? So we can still play.? Even if there are no orange or blue ones left.
And wouldn’t you know it, no sooner is she home for five minutes, then she digs this out of the bathroom trash:
Notice it’s already half ingested.? Because there’s nothing like a? little cardboard to wash down those chicken backs.? And actually, to be perfectly accurate, she stole about six of them.? Which leads to a much more disturbing question–how the heck do we go through so much toilet paper around here?? Although? I suppose at least this means my socks are safe, for the time being anyway.
As you can see, she’s having a challenging time readjusting to life here.? Can’t you just? see the stress oozing from every pore?
Less than 24 hours, and she’s already back to her sofa hogging ways.? But at least she didn’t comment on the missing coffee table.
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