Crunch Time

When we were kids, my sister Peggy suffered from an eye disease. It resulted in the doctors recommending that one of her eyes be removed. So at an early age my sister lost that eye and it was replaced with a prosthetic eye, also known as a glass eye. To our horror, Peggy used that eye to her advantage. Whenever she was pissed at us or needed some revenge, she would pop that thing out and chase us around the house. She has since grown out of that habit.

Early Saturday morning all was peaceful in our house. The new kitchen was done, we had a party the night before, and our house guests were winging their way back to Louisiana. That's when the shit hit the fan.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH.. NOOOOOOOOOO...! YOU BITCH, YOU HORRIBLE THING! Oh my god, LOOK WHAT SHE DID! My glasses, my new glasses...   WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.... I hate you!"

Scout ate Mark's new glasses. They were in pieces, with the lenses and frame parts scattered everywhere. Destroyed. I immediately took the terrified terrier out the back door to safety where I had a heart to heart talk with her. I showed her the munched on bits of the glasses and explained just how bad that was. She was sorry, very sorry. So was I, because to smooth things over I paid for a new pair of glasses, even though it was Mark's fault for leaving them where Scout the mountain goat could get them.

Later in the day, while Mark kept complaining about Scout, I was reminded of an incident my sister was involved in. It was her dog, a very similar terrier to Scout, who had taken things one step further than just eating a pair of glasses. Peggy's dog, Zoe, ate her glass eye. So eating a pair of glasses isn't quite as bad in comparison, is it Mark?