The paper in the bedroom floor had pieces torn off and bore teeth marks.
Curious. The teeth marks looked like those Monroe had left when she chewed up my dress shoes and my phone charger.
And Kindra’s new glasses and shoes.
And Kindra’s phone charger.
And countless socks, toys and perhaps things that we haven’t found yet.
This specific piece of paper was a grayish green, with a picture of Andrew Jackson on one side and the White House on the other.
A $20 bill. The latest victim of Monroe’s urge to chew.
This is Monroe the dog, who came to live with us about four years ago after being dumped south of Shawnee by someone driving a pickup.
She’s a big girl, just a couple of snacks short of 90 pounds. I figure she is a mix of white lab and one of the white livestock guardian breeds.
She has the temperament of a lab and is a complete sweetheart, wonderful with the small children who frequent our house, and the least aggressive dog I have seen.
But Kindra and I have discussed how much it costs to have Monroe for a dog.
Before I brought her home the first time, I took her by the vet’s, where the bill included spaying, shots and a microchip.
Since then, she’s rung up, oh, probably $2,500 in assorted bills, the biggest being a round of heartworm treatments.
And now, she has eaten money. $20. Kindra found the remnants of the bill and took them to the bank, but alas. One of the serial numbers was missing, so we couldn’t redeem the bill.
I suspect the remaining serial number and other parts of the bill were indigestible and are somewhere in our yard under a snow bank, if you get my drift and don’t mind a weak pun or two, but it turns out there are some things that aren’t worth doing for $20.
So, we’ll add it to Monroe’s tab and remind her once again that it’s lucky for her that she’s such a sweet dog.