We suffered another loss here last week -- of the fiber variety. This one fell prey to the foul beast who lurks behind our couch. One whom all socks have learned to speak of in hushed tones only. That great black beast known as Helo.
Thursday I walked both to and from work, having woken up with a migraine and deciding not to inflict my blurry state on the other drivers making their morning commute. So I pulled on my favorite pair of handknit socks and over the course of the day walked a total of seven miles (I've been using a pedometer just for fun). When I came home I took the dog back out for a walk, not realizing the treachery that would come. We went on our walk, taking in the sights, fighting over how many bushes to crawl under or why he cannot go make the sweet little pit puppy across the way his girlfriend. Finally we returned home where I collapsed on the couch, took off my shoes, and decided to veg out a bit in front of Veronica Mars.
After a few minutes I realized that I had not seen or heard Helo since returning home and decided to check in on him, only to find a most vicious sight. Helo, the dog we so lovingly care for, eating my sock. Yes, you heard that right, eating.
It seems Helo decided I did not pay enough attention to him, and thus decided to get my notice the best way he knew how. Or he was just expressing his admirable taste in knitwear. I am unconvinced either way. All I know is that if we had a doghouse, Helo would have been in it.
Working in his favor, Gnome Acres had a big update on Friday so I was able to snag some replacement yarn. He acknowledges that this makes him a very lucky dog.