Have you seen dog-shaming.com? Some of the entries make me laugh til I cry. Dogs are so bad (my own included), and the owners are even worse (myself included).
Still, I cannot help but wonder about the panty-eating dogs. Or, more accurately, their owners. Do these people not own laundry hampers? How many pairs of panties get eaten before you start putting them somewhere the dog can’t get them? Do they not worry about their dogs suffering from bowel blockages?
I’ve lived with a panty eater. We adopted Pepper from a shelter when I was eleven, and he lived to see me become a mom. A twelve pound rat terrier, we never bothered to try to train him. He had all kinds of bad habits, like running away (which is how he ended up at the dog pound) and nipping our ankles when we ran, but the only trait I did not find endearing was the panty snatching and eating of feminine hygiene products.
Those two were gross. Worse for a painfully shy teen, they were embarrassing, because he would bring my panties downstairs when visitors appeared. Increase the embarrassment factor by ten because most of the time the visitors were the friends of my teenaged brother.
Slob though I was, it only took a couple occasions of seeing Pepper trotting into the living room carrying my panties to learn that lesson. Jeans and t-shirts could be, and were, safely left littering the bedroom floor, but dirty panties had to be stashed out of his reach. And he was a high jumper. Blood soaked pads had to be wrapped in bags, then put in the trash, which I moved under the sink. At least by me. The rest of the family never embraced the trash under the sink concept, but I have stuck with it to this day.
Goodness but I loved that bad dog.