For real, dog, what is wrong with you? Do you need therapy? An intervention? Overeaters Anonymous? I cannot nail down everything in this house.

Damn.

Here’s our latest tally of destruction:

**  Chewed open an Amazon packing bubble.

**  Launched up to snatch a piece of apple with peanut butter off my plate while I was sitting at the table with it. My catlike reflexes saved the apple (and Gracie’s rear end).

**  Scarfed down a stolen piece of folded up scratch paper. Must have needed the fiber.

**  Knocked over a bathroom trash can and snuffled away at each and every piece of rubbish. Some of which were gross. Don’t ask.

**  Devoured pretzel remnants in a bag left on the counter. Along with part of its chip clip. Both crunchy and delicious.

**  Gnawed part of a produce bag and the onion skin inside it. (Hey, it’s not like her breath could get any worse.)

**  Shoved snout into a GF tortilla bag, buried up to her eyeballs as she inhaled my chips. T-man was shocked that I calmly put her outside and kept eating from the bag, but after you’ve had a kid puke on you a little dog spittle in the chips just doesn’t seem that bad. Don’t judge me.

**  Snatched up an apple slice as it dropped off the cutting board.

**  Banana peels. So many banana peels. Snipping at one in T-man’s hand, sniffing at another lying on an end table, peeking her nose toward the fruit bowl on our counter.

**  Poked around a Pringles can, waiting patiently for us to be distracted so she could make her move. (Too bad, sucker!)

**  A luggage sticker right out of Bee’s hand. Twice.

**  And, the ultimate in irony, a dog hair covered sheet off my lint roll. From whence it came, the dog hair shall return.

You can check out the last account of Gracie’s digestive adventures here.