I was lounging on my bed reading a book when I heard a curious smacking sound. I looked toward the doorway where Alanis stood. Catching my thought-beams, she lifted her head from the spot where she had been grazing. The evidence, a string of red wool, dangled from her mouth.
Normal corner
"You didn't," I said. Her tail wagged once. An expression of puzzled amusement on my face, I walked over and we stood looking down at the formerly pristine corner of the little Gabbeh style rug (a thick, coarse Oriental rug) kept on the upstairs landing. It was now a chewed and ragged corner.
Must not laugh, I thought. "What was so tasty about that particular corner of that particular rug?" I asked. I don't carry dripping hamburgers upstairs or wipe butter on the corners of rugs. Did something about that corner offend her? Is she planning to round off all the corners of that rug? Or is this the mere beginning of a massive redecorating project? All I know for sure is that she has begun normal Airedale procedures.
The chewed corner
