wocka wocka wocka

so die dog thinks she is funny.  you see, she likes to go in for the kill on all things plush.  she likes to gut them with the smallest of incisions and then proceed to shred them.

a while back, i came home as usual.  i got the usual greeting of, "you're home! now let me out!"  and she proceeded to run to the back door.  while i was at the door, i turned and gasped.  yes.  i gasped.

there, nicely laid out in her bed, was my-- MY-- fozzie bear.  in preop, being readied for the torture to begin.

i took a photo for proof because thomas' dog has it in for me and all of my things, including MY fozzie bear.  die evil dog is really out to get him.  and all he ever did was tell a lousy joke or two.