I woke up this morning to Bella chewing on something, so I shouted, as I do every time, "Bella, no! What are you chewing on?" ...as if she knows English. Oh she had my favorite jeans. It's not like they were new or anything, but you know you have them. You know? Your favorites? The ones you could wear every day if society would let you? Yup--ruined. Hole in the butt--and it's a pretty big hole. Well, folks, I've done before and I'll do it again. If Bella can't keep her mouth to herself and chews up a couple more of my favorite things, that dog is getting Craigslisted. I can handle the chewed up black ink pen that created a puddle of a landmass in the middle of the living room carpet, the missing carpet by the sliding glass door, the blanketless house because someone had an unmanageable mouth, and the unrecognizable mac computer cord, but this? The jeans...no you didn't.