Paranoia

It's a good thing I'm not a paranoid person. . . otherwise I would think my dogs were out to get me. They are driving us nuts. Zosia has discovered the backyard compost pile. Now every time she goes outside, she races over and goes to town trying to dig up as much kitchen scrap as she can. Of course, she's fixated on the edamame pods, despite her allergy to soy. So I have to trudge out after her to drag her away from the pile, then she gets sick. Yuk! Jake has piled more yard clippings on top of where she's digging, but it's not stopping her. Now I have to take her out on leash, which is a huge pain. Jimmy Ray is not without his annoyance, either. He is CONVINCED there is a critter living behind the radiator in our den. He has been convinced of this since last Tuesday. He spends the entire day whining, scratching, sniffing and sometimes barking at the radiator cover. He has the tenacity to move boxes of books that have been stacked around it to try to deter him. He is undaunted by the multiple cleaning techniques that have been employed. He is unconvinced by us removing the cover to show him, in fact, there is nothing there. Right now, he is laying beside it, eyes closed but sniffer working madly. It's enough to drive me to drink. . . . at 9am. . . .