Double Shot of Crazy

My dog has a screw or two loose somewhere. But I suppose that's a prerequisite for being an Anderson. Our old dog, Hunter, who died in January was a wonderful, beautiful, loving neurotic mess - the equivalent to psychological mashed potatoes.

This was Hunter:


Heidi has two very distinct habits that have come to light since we adopted her in June. Well, three - but one is completely unmentionable here (let your mind wander). First, she seems weirdly unable to keep from shredding any type of tissue she finds - toilet paper, Kleenex, napkins, tissue paper, paper towels, etc.

Second, and more creepy, is her affinity for dirty underwear. I know. Ewwwwww! Oh - and the jackpot? A used Pull-up - the perfect combination of tissue AND dirty underwear. Oh. My.

She seems to be ashamed of these odd obsessions, because she drags all of her precious treasures under our bed. No wonder I'm not sleeping well lately. There's bad under-the-bed karma in our room.

Heidi outside yesterday:

But oh how swell it feels knowing that she's right where she belongs: God dropped this crazy dog who needed a home right smack in the middle of an entire family of functioning lunatics. He always knows what he's doing, yes?