“Don’t blame me. I was just wrapping your present.”

You all must think I’m staging this for some publicity. You know, bad publicity is better than no publicity. But I’m here to tell you, I lock my stuff up. She recently discovered how to open doors and drawers. And no, I can’t and won’t crate her. Besides ruining her teeth on both wire and plastic crates, I really hate the way they look in our main living areas. So we’ll have to devise locks on the doors.

“It’s not my fault I don’t have opposable thumbs.”

The other day, while I was sitting at my computer, she casually strolled into then out of the bathroom carrying a NexCare band aid box she found laying on the bathtub ledge. It always cracks me up to see the Sibe casually strolling around the house with contraband in her mouth. I laughed, softly told her “no” and she dropped it immediately.  Because she was such an angel in front of me, I gave her something delicious to chew in its place.

But don’t worry. I wasn’t born yesterday. New anti-sibe systems are already underway.

Or should we just move?

This is just a small peak into the tornado that seemed to blow INTO my home the other day. Someone TP’d the downstairs foyer as well. Three rolls of toilet paper unrolled and chewed up along with only one flip-flop. Loki’s so disgusted he can’t even turn to look at the trouble-maker.

There was a big pile of trash under Mr. Wild Dingo’s desk as well, shredded paper, cardboard and some of my dirty laundry.  Plus two books, my Eyewitness Guide to Greece and Mr. Wild Dingo’s Roman History book by Livy were shredded. Obviously someone doesn’t know her geography because the Cyclades section was attacked viciously by Siberian mastications, but the Crete section, the island we’re going to this month, was left in tact. But I think she made her point.

“Ooospie! Sorry Mom.”

“Insincere apologies make me hungry. Less chattin’ more snackin’. “

Wild Dingo predicts a bull market in the flip flop industry. Timing: 24-hours after Mr. Wild Dingo finds this latest flip flop mastication. Zappos stock headed for sharp gains.

(Sorry Mr. Wild Dingo)

“This book says ‘what you cannot enforce, do not command.’  That sounds like good advice, huh Pop?”

“It also says a good leader is one who takes a little more than his share of blame.”

Woah, Mr. Wild Dingo. Are you listening? If that’s not a clue to store the books up high, I don’t know what is!

“Nothing so conclusively proves one’s ability to lead a Sibe as to what he leads a Sibe to do.”

Brutal! What a way to point the paw at Mr. Wild Dingo!

Sigh. First Socrates, then Roman History, now Leadership. I think I’m seeing the trend.

Recently, I went to a wine tasting in Lausanne. Scratch that. It was a wine appreciation because they served hors d’ouvres with each wine to help understand how wine flavor can be balanced with food. I don’t know much about how to taste wine or pair it with food, so it was a great experience.  Who knew you could taste umami in wine? Who knows what umami actually is?

I took home lots of tips and have been experimenting ever since.

Yesterday, Juno demonstrated a similar methodology for her reputable masticatory appreciation of shoes, with one of Mr. Wild Dingo’s flip flops.

“This is a light shoe, with a crisp taste of polyurethane, a soft bouquet of gazon-verte and strong overtone of Poppy* tannins. Sadly, it is not a Dansko.”

*Poppy the Mr. Wild Dingo. Not Poppy the seed.
For those wondering:  the Danskos are still in one piece. Nine days to go.

Soupçons is a play based on the drama Staircase, a 9-hour film documenting the trial of Michael Peterson, accused of murdering his wife in North Carolina. I don’t actually remember the case. Then again, I was living in California at the time of the trial probably too focused on working. (Internet, can you believe that I once had a work ethic?)

The play was outstanding. It was a contemporary play using various forms of media, such as overhead projectors, a TV screen, and video/film. The stage was barely set with tables and another stage and the actors would often change the set during their performance. It was beautifully executed even with no intermissions. The talented director managed to bring some lightness into a heavy subject by making some of the testimony comical. The online gay prostitute appeared in court in his skivvy’s and the medical expert looked like science geek with high-rise pants while he presented child-like drawings of the the murder scene as evidence. I wish I had a better grasp of the language because the play was just outstanding.

Soupçons literally translates to “suspicion.” When we got home, we had a trial of our own.

“Hey Mom, the evidence is by Loki’s bed. Tu ne peux pas avoir un soupçon que je l’ai fait! C’est logique qu’ il est coupable!”

“Princess, I’m not that advanced in my French lessons yet. I hope you told her it wasn’t my fault.”

“Of course Big Boy! I told her it was the squirrels!”

There is no story, just a few photos of this and that over the past month.

When our friends were here we visited the cathedral in Lausanne. It was nighttime, so I didn’t have to risk being kicked out. Another embarassing moment averted. 

We also managed to go snow shoeing in the Swiss ALPS baby!  We didn’t know what the heck we were doing so we just chose a place that looked snowy, Champrey. I wasn’t exactly thrilled when information guide gave us a trail map that included cartoons of a snow shoer trying to run away from a wild boar. I pretended not to see that and set out on the trail.

We started on one of the easier routes but ended up doing a middle-level route that went a bit longer. I was expecting gentle rolling fireroad like trails, but those crazy Swiss had other ideas. The trail started with a 87% climb (ok it felt like that) and across two very teeny weeny ledges with a steep drop off on one side. WTF? The crazy Swiss and their addiction to thrill. I said my prayers and tiptoed my way across them.

Despite the freaky trails, Mr. Wild Dingo and I had a blast and immediately went out and bought ourselves snow shoes and poles along with better clothing.

But now there’s no snow, especially where we live, by the lake.

I managed to get in a little off-leash time for the dogs. I was hoping that since we’ve been here 6 months now and hopefully by now they’ve learned the area, they wouldn’t be so cracker once the leash was off. There’s Loki in the distance of the rolling hills practically screaming “Je suis libre!”

Juno on the other hand remains composed. Until she sees something move.

“Hey Big Boy, how about tuning those antennas on your head to Serius radio for some tunes?”

We found a secluded area in back of some non-residential farms that is somewhat safe to roam around. If I don’t see other dogs, people or animals, I let them go.

It rocked my world to see Loki run his zoomie circles in bliss around us.

He was so happy, he forgot that his feet were wet by the river when he went to go get a drink of water.

I’ve also been letting them off in the more popular dog walking paths. That’s Chateau Vufflens way in the back. They keep up with me pretty well, occassionally they will try to go down one of the vinyard paths between the vines, but a simple “no” heads them in the right direction with me. It’s nice for me to get a break from the constant stop and go with them or with one and not the other.

I’m not as gullible as you think. I don’t let them off near a band of horses. As we passed these 6 or 7 horses, Loki had just averted two off leash dogs who were interested in us (and he not so much in them) and then had to face the horses who walked toward us rather quickly, as if I had carrots or something. Not one bark. And he was very nervous. Sigh. Sometimes he surprises me.

Last weekend, downtown Morges was freezing. Even the river was lined with ice.

Swan butts are funny.

I have no idea who that whacko is holding my dogs.

And Juno is steadily maintaining her masticatory hobbies.  (The Dansko’s are still alive.)  This is the box of very swanky cookies given to us by a nice French lady. Thankfully all the cookies were consumed by Mr. Wild Dingo prior to Juno investigating the box.

Juno’s Jodhpurs Pupdate
I’m a chick. I have perogatives. I’m still not sure about whether we should go ahead with doing the hip surgery on Juno. We have varying opinions from different vets. 

The gold beads seem to keep her out of severe pain but she’s definitely NOT walking normally or zooming like I know she would love to do. We’ve now been to an osteopath who manipulates her muscles and opens up her blocked areas that has helped more than anything. In the past, acupuncture needles were put in the exact areas where the osteopath is working on her: in her low-to-mid-spine area. There is a lot of tension and pain in that area, no doubt from not being able to move properly.

The osteopath seems to prefer no surgery at all and said it is possible not have an improvement after surgery and no matter what, your dog runs the risk of “never being the same.” That could be positive or negative. It sure sounded negative to me though.  And she also warned that each hip takes up to 6-8 months for full recovery. So we were looking at up to 1.5 years of total recovery time. Which would be difficult for Juno as well as me.

Juno and I go back to her tomorrow for a second appointment. Today she was very restless and a little whiny which tells me she’s probably in some pain probably from playing too much. She was supposed to rest and relax this past week, but that’s just not Juno. She’s obsessed with long walks. Though we were regulated to shorter walks, that just never happens with her as she’ll often try her hardest not to turn back home.

I’ll be bringing her x-rays to the osteopath tomorrow as she hasn’t seen them yet and we’ll hear more opinion on how to proceed. She may refer us to a surgeon for a consult. But there are so many opinions. Some very frightening. I do like all the doctors I’ve seen. They’re all fantastic, including the primary care vet and the holistic doctors. But it’s just so difficult to decide what’s best. We have not recieved a surgical consult, mainly because we know what the opinion will be but I am certain a consult will happen soon.  For now, it’s holistic/osteopathic care and the status quo.

The castle is built on a rocky island and was strategically located to control movement between the north and south of Europe. The oldest written mention of the castle dates back from 1150 and shows that the Savoy family controlled the fortress and the path along the lake shore. 

The Swiss,  or more specifically, the Bernese, conquered Vaud and occupied Chillon in 1536. For more than 260 years the castle was used as a fortress, arsenal and prison.

The Bernese left Chillon at the time of the Vaud revolution in 1798 and the state of Vaud became its owner when the canton was created in 1803. In case you’re wondering, Vaud is the state or canton where we live. The castle began restoration at the end of the 19th century.

The castle Chillon was made famous by English Poet, Lord Byron, who in 1816 wrote of the captivity of Francois Bonivard in his poem “The Prisoner of Chillon.”   Bonivard was a political activist who opposed the Duke of Savoy and his attempts to control Geneva. Well, the Duke of Savoy didn’t seem to like this bad boy so he imprisoned him not once but twice, the second time for 6 years at Chillon, in the prison below the castle.

Bonivard was chained to a post in the center of the prison and couldn’t see the outside, but he could hear the water and see the reflection coming from the windows which often fed his fears of being imprisoned below water.  Later the Bernese set him free when they conquered Vaud.

In the prision you can see where Byron carved his name on the stone post where Bonivard was shackled.

Here is Mr. Wild Dingo inspecting one of the prison shackles.

“Hey Honey, this feels a lot like my wedding ring!”
What Mr. Wild Dingo doesn’t know is that I just threw the only key out the window.

One of the interesting things about this castle is that no matter what room you go into, inevitably, it turned into a room where “justice was dispensed.”   It didn’t matter if it was the dining room, prison, storage area,  drawing room,  kitchen, or even a latrine or a chapel, in almost every one of the rooms, the curation in the brochure seemed to end with “justice was dispensed here.”  No matter where you went, justice was a part of it. Those Swiss! True to their nature of efficiency, they sure knew how to make good use of all the rooms.  The castle even had it’s own “Hall of Justice,” a reception and banquet hall where they “received their vassals and dispensed justice.” 

We had not been to a bedroom yet and Mr. Wild Dingo was naturally curious to see if justice was also dispensed in the bedrooms. I know what you’re thinking Internet. Naughty Mr. Wild Dingo! So imagine our surprise when we came to the “Torture Room”–which ajoined a bedroom.

Here we are in the large dining room. You can see Mr. Wild Dingo expresses happiness as I tell him I would like to renovate our dinning room to look like this.

My friend Sarah and I look out the window, inevitably from a room where of course justice was dispensed. At this point, the Swiss are seriously starting to worry me.

The Keep and the Watchtower (cue Jimi Hendrix), offered the most beautiful views.

Oddly, there was no justice dispensed from the keep or the watch tower.

I guess it’s too difficult to dispense justice when the views are so pretty.

When we came home that evening, we came home to this:

WTF?

“Justice has been dispensed here.”

First lets look at the criminal.

“What exatly do you want me to say about this Mom?”

A bold move so close to Christmas. Even for a Siberian.

As a yogi I believe that the universe sends us people and living things into our lives to reinforce our personal beliefs or teach us something.  When we were ready to rescue another dog, I refused to rescue a full German Shepherd, as much as I love the breed. I knew very little about dogs or GSDs but I believed is that GSDs were prone to hip dysplasia. And I did not want a dog with hip dysplasia. So we ended up with Loki, a GSD mix. Later the universe laughed at me, “Ha! You think getting a Siberian will keep you from facing your fears of hip dysplasia?  Here is Lovely Juno! She is here to teach you.” O.K. I get that.

But I ask you Internet, just what is the universe trying to teach me with a dog that has masticatory addictions? Perhaps that one of us needs a 12-step program?

“Mom, this is just a gentle reminder to Pop not to leave us for so long again.”
Mr. Wild Dingo had been gone all week and stuck twice in airport delays due to snow. I had to take him to work this morning and this is what I came home to. All of Mr. Wild Dingo’s notebooks and mail, masticated.

“Santa is gonna hear about this? Are you serious? But you can’t prove I did it! I mean, you didn’t even catch me red-pawed.”

“How about if I show him my better side of my pretty face?”

“What are you lookin’ so smug over there for Big Boy? It’s not like you’re perfect.”

She’s right about Loki…For example, we ran into one of Frosty’s cousins in Morges yesterday.

We didn’t catch his name but Loki something to say.

Perhaps this offense wouldn’t be so bad to dear old St. Nick, because you know, everyone knows that Frosty is a pansy anyway.

But then, while we were walking home, we ran into dear old Père Noël. And as we passed him, Loki gave him a polite sniff and we passed in peace. Then we turned around to say goodbye and this is what Loki did:

“Woof! Woof! Woof!”

He decided Père Noël looked suspicious and wanted him to know that he was watching him. Like Père Noël was the bad guy. Sigh.

But back to Juno. We had a hectic weekend. Mr. Wild Dingo lost all of it waiting at the airport in the Philippines and in Amsterdam and I spent it mopping up not one but two floods in the basement due to a burst pipe. It’s not important how that happened but suffice it to say our weekend of going to Montreaux to see the famous Christmas market was killed. And this morning while busily putting the house back together and trying to get on the bike for a quick workout,  I inadvertently took out a Buon Viando sausage and put it on the stairs to bring up to the kitchen. Only I forgot to bring it up and went ahead with my work out. After the bike, I headed up to the yoga room and then I remembered the sausage. But it wasn’t on the stairs anymore.

Here’s what a Buon Viando meat sausage looks like when it’s properly defrosting on my kitchen counter.

And here’s what a Buon Viando Sausage looks like when Siberian takes it from the stairs where I accidentally left it, opens it and eats 3/4 of it frozen, including half the plastic packaging, in the living room.

That’s two strikes against both dogs on the week of Christmas. It doesn’t bode well for them does it? The sad thing about this is we have no fireplace to use up all the coal that they will surely get in their stockings.

The TravelMarx left on Friday, after spending two extra days being snowed in with airport and airline shut downs. I really hated seeing them leave.

Yes, those are my new boots I’m modeling in the photo. Don’t worry. I already bought another pair by now. One specifically for dog walking.  I’m thinking I need at least 3 or 4 more pairs. At the very least. A brown leather pair because you can’t always wear black, a trekking/hiking pair, a back up dog pair for when Juno eats my dog walking pair, and a high-heeled pair even though they are not practical, but just because I like spending Mr. Wild Dingo’s money. Did I mention that Mr. Wild Dingo buys his flip flops in quantities of three? He pre-purchases Juno’s chew toys expecting them to be eaten. So it’s only fair I do the same with my boots, right?  

By the way, we had another shoe incident. I was distracted by throwing a big dinner party for some of Mr. Wild Dingo’s work colleagues while the Marx were here. But don’t worry Internet, the Dansko’s are still alive. Instead she ate my Keens. Here’s the evidence:

All you Sibe people better save your breath with defending her. If that doesn’t look guilty, I don’t know what would.

As I was saying:  While the Marx were anxious to end their month-long vacation in Italy and Switzerland, I was secretly thrilled they were forced to spend extra time here. Can you guess why?

Two men in the kitchen: one is a gourmet chef and the other is a cleaner.  I need to find a way to capitalize on this new living situation so they visit more often and I can kick back, and watch them cook and clean.

It was our first big snow in Switzerland and the local folks told me that it was unusual for it to be this heavy this early in the year. Usually villages close to the lake will see snow in February and March but not as early as December. 

This is downtown Morges just after the first snow when they arrived.  It was 7:00 pm. And the stores are closed. There isn’t a soul on the streets besides us (in the photo). Ok, it’s times like this that I can appreciate the early store closings.

One of our excursions took us 3000 meters up the Tsanfleuron Glacier. Glacier 3000, a ski and snow park only an hour car-drive from our house connects the Col du Pillon with the Tsanfleuron Glacier. The park boasts many snow activities other than skiing so I wanted to check it out.

It started with a cable car ride up the Col du Pillon and from there change over to another cable car to take us up approximately 3000 meters up the Scex Rouge to the ski and snow park. Total trip time was 15 freezing minutes. We had the cable car to ourselves on the trip up.

Here I am finding religion. “Please Snow Gods, keep the cables strong!” Mr. Wild Dingo braces himself for the unexpected.

One look out the window and we saw this dude. WTF? Crazy Swiss.  This guy is paragliding and landing on his skis. Apparently the Swiss are known for all sorts of extreme sports.  I guess they get kind of bored keeping a tight schedule of being up at dawn, home by 5 and in bed by 9 PM. That coupled with all their anti-noise laws, it’s all making sense. They find their thrills on the mountain tops.  I wonder if there’s a law against screaming while paragliding or doing all the other crazy stuff they do on the mountains?

Leaving the second cable car station and on our way up to the next level. The first cable car ride looked like it was going to land straight into the face of the rock. I had to close my eyes.

Here it is a little further up from the second station. Now can you see why I’m about to toss my cookies?

The views were absolutely breathtaking on the way up.

I don’t ski. I never wanted to ski and I’ll probably never ski. I don’t like the cold unless I’m moving fairly hard in it to stay warm. So I’ll never down hill ski but I’ll probably try cross country and snow shoeing. Since the park boasted hiking, cross country skiing, an alpine coaster ride and husky dog sledding, I thought it may be fun to check it out.

The Alpine Coaster (in this photo above) is closed in the winter. I can’t imagine why!

When we got to the top, we were dropped off right at the downhill skiing. It was so cold, I had no desire to hop into the ski lift to go to the hiking or dog sledding areas so we opted to try the famous Restaurant Botta, designed by renowned architect Mario Botta. It was closed. Now there’s a shocker. All we had left was to climb the stairs to the peak so we could take in views. But the stairs were temporarily closed due to the weather and a staff person shoveling the snow. (Anyone out there know of a portable snow blower for the poor bloke?) So we ate in the “self-service” cafeteria where I paid $5 for a cup of Lipton tea.

After our over-priced and uneventful lunch, we were able to climb up the stairs to the peak just above the restaurant. The staff person had been shoveling the stairs for 2 hours prior to our climb.  He was clearly tired and out of breath so at the top he promptly lit up a cigarette. It was so Euro.

I started climbing the stairs with gusto, but soon ran out of gas. I didn’t realize how thin the air was! Let’s see, if I do the math, 3000 meters is almost 10,000 feet? Oh my.  I don’t think I’ve ever been that high, except in a plane. And maybe in college. But I didn’t inhale. So it doesn’t count.

Marc and I share a bit of nervous laughter over something funny. I think we just figured out how high we were and we became hysterical. On the other side of the chain is a “cliff face” that drops down.

At the top. It was so fun to have my brother here. He knows me so well, he sent me a new song that is now my current favorite. It has HBO words in it so, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I don’t know why, but it totally cracks me up.

At the top. The view offers a 360 degree panorama of Eiger, Monte Rosa, Matterhorn, Mont Blanc, Lake Geneva and the Jura mountains. It’s also quite surreal so I keep telling myself that it’s just a painting just to keep my overpriced lunch from revisiting.

On one of their last nights, we stayed in to make dinner. Or should I say Mark made dinner.

“So Mark, what are you making for me? Err, what can I help you with?”
 Juno likes to place herself right where she believes she will be most useful. Unfortunately, she is most in-the-way.

 I’m anxious to lend a helping hand and give the sauce a quick stir. That’s about all the work I did their entire time here. Mark’s like, “Quick take the photo so she doesn’t try to stir anything else.”

Oh my, I’m starving just looking at this. Mark showed me his secret to making a great sauce: a really long slow roast of the garlic. Now it’s not a secret!

 Juno tried her best to help ransack, set the table.

 While Loki pulls: “I’m just un Chien du Montagne de Tawain, who was once starving on the street and nobody loved me.”

“This is a most advantageous spot. I’m keeping Marc’s feet warm and the floor clean should any pasta noodles or prosciutto find their way down here.”

Sigh. The Marx are gone. And they left their lousy Seattle weather behind because it’s now raining. But we’ll relive the rest of their trip later this week with our visit to Bern and Geneva’s Modern Art Museum.

Wait, it’s my yoga block. And it’s in the foyer. Hmm.  I don’t remember leaving it there. In fact, this is where it should be:

…right next to it’s partner yoga block in my bibliothèque du burreau (office bookshelf). I know I left it there.  Khyra pointed out that maybe I should put my “khrap” away. As if it were that easy. As you can see, I keep a fairly neat house and as it is,  my shelves, that would normally hold books, are empty. My brand new bibliotehque is useless. All because we harbor a criminal who takes things like books and now yoga blocks off the shelves and has her way with them.

Above is another item that fell into the fate of the Siberian jaws about a month ago. It’s a lovely Ikea lamp we purchased for a dead space in the living room. She had her way with it when we were in our cultural training in September during a lunch break with the teachers. The lamp wasn’t even out of the box or assembled. She opened the box, took out the paper lamp and destroyed it. For the record, that box was stacked on other boxes and she had to drag it off and away from all the other heavy boxes. So that lovely lamp is now zip-tied together at the top (thank you Mr. Wild Dingo, Martha Stewart would be proud) and demoted to the basement. Thanks to the Sibe, that lamp illuminates our path to her dinner every day. To think I was ready to remind–while mocking–you all that she had also eaten my passport last year as well.  I guess the joke’s on me, huh?

“Hey mom, can you buy me a bigger foyer rug so that I can neatly confine my mastications in one area? Thanks.”

So Juno made it to 9 days and 20 hours since the Dansko’s arrived. You’ll note that my old Dansko’s are also in the crime scene. They’ve been demoted to dog yard shoes. She has since attacked them two more times since that first time. Last night, I admittedly did not put them in another room as I usually do and bolt the door, instead I hid them far under the armoire to the left. As you can see, she found them.  But since these are not the Dansko’s in the bet, they do not count in this Dankso Pool. However, this does count as her first mastication since the Dankso Pool Bet began because here is the damage she inflicted:

As you can see the yoga block has been violated with Siberian teeth, counting as the first mastication event since the beginning of the bet.

The Herd has this saying, “A tired Sibe is a good Sibe.” Well I’m here to tell you, there’s no such thing as a good Sibe, tired or not. You see, yesterday, this Sibe went on a 3-hour hike to St. Prex from our house. There was no question that we were all tired when we got home. I, myself, barely had the energy to get ready for dinner, so I know she was tired. Regardless of her fatigue, and regardless of how neat we keep the house and how few rooms she’s confined to (office, foyer, kitchen), we came home to an eaten yoga block and my old Dansko’s (now dog yard shoes) violated a  third time.

“I don’t know what the fuss is all about. Purple does not work in this house like it does with the California house and these Danskos have already bitten the dust.”

So I have a saying now: The reason Siberians are born with masks because they are all criminals.  I mean lets face it.  You you can’t take the crime out of a natural born criminal. Crime is in her DNA. A criminal who’s tired is simply a tired criminal, not a retired criminal. For example, here’s Juno–still tired from her 3-hour hike and her yoga block crime–eyeing Mr. Wild Dingo’s loafer in the photo above, already planning her next masticatory crime:

“These Dansko’s are getting a bit old to chew on. That nice suede loafer on Poppy’s foot, however, looks ripe for mastications.”

So you may wonder how we would treat a criminal after a crime has been committed. I mean, in our society, every crime must have a consequence right?

“There, there, Juno. We’re so sorry to have left you here with that cracker cujo dog Loki. With nothing but old Dansko’s (and 14 other bones and toys) to amuse yourself. How can we make this up to you?”

“That’s more like it Pop. I did smell something quite delicious when you came in.”

“Oh you mean the steak we had for dinner, err, I mean, the steak we bought specifically for you?”

“Ya, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. Perhaps you should be a bit faster with getting the steak home next time.”

Do you think it sends the wrong message to give a Sibe some steak after a crime has been committed?

Here is evidence that my new burgendy Dansko’s are still alive and well:

“Ah, that sweet “new shoe-smell” of a Dansko. It’s calling to me.”

So winners for the first bet are Brice & Eva and Brooke & Darwin. And they will get some Swiss chocolate no matter if the Dansko’s make it or not.  And if you’re wondering, yes, I’m extremely embarrassed for having lost the second part of the bet in such a short time. I was expecting 30 days at least. So, I’m warning you, I’m going to be working like mad not to lose the 2nd part of the bet!

 ”You’d be a fool not to bet against the house!”

To Play:

1. Place a first bet for “Dansko’s Bite the Dust” in the comment section of this post once. You cannot revise your bet or make changes to your bet. You can only place one bet for this category. Since the house bets 180 days, you cannot place a bet higher than 180 days.
2. Place a second bet for “First Masticatory Incident” of anykind. Because Dansko’s aren’t the only thing on Juno’s non-food menu. In the event the house actually wins and the shoes survive 180 days, the person who wins this bet will win. 
3. Both bets operate the same way. The closest bet to the day of the incident without going over wins. So if there’s a mastication at day 42 and there’s a bet for this at day 43, there is no winner. But if there is a bet for day 2 and a bet for day 43, then the better for day 2 wins.
4. The betting pool is open until December 25, 2010. All bets must be placed by that date.
5. The game ends April 16, 2011 (180 days after Dansko’s arrived) or on the day one pair of Dankso’s bites the dust. I know, that’s a long time to wait. But consider the odds:

Here is a short list of Siberian Masticatory wins in the last 3 years that are in favor of the player’s odds:

I call this the short list because if I were to post every mastication the Sibe has completed in the last three years, I wouldn’t be posting about any other subject. For example, below is another, unpublicized mastication the day she destroyed Rome. Notice the Roman mastications are in the background but the Ikea mastication was not mentioned in that post.

“I try to be helpful around the house, pre-open some of these Ikea boxes. And this is the thanks I get?”

So with only about 1/4 of Juno’s mastications published in the last three years,  it looks like the odds are in your favor to bet and bet early.  You can’t win if you don’t play!

Hint: to analyze the odds in depth before placing your bets, be sure to study the history of Juno’s mastications.

Update: Day Counting begins from 10/18/2020, the day the shoes arrived.

“They say historians cannot fully explain the rise or fall of Rome. Soon, they will say that about Siberian mastications.”

“I’ve had better antipastos than this.”

“Hey Princess, how come you didn’t eat Pop’s sandals?”
“Looks like the legions saved them. This time.”

Clearly these two find unpacking too exhausting and decide a nap in the sun is just the ticket.

Same dogs, same tricks, different country. Gotta love our “quality” rent-a-furniture.

Thank Dog for obedience! When our first set of contractors came over to discuss mandatory changes to the house to comply with the canton and country codes, of course I tried to lock them in a room. I completely forgot they can open doors and out they came, with a little cracker hello. Loki usually spends about 30 seconds with his rough tough manly barking “There’s an intruder! An intruder,”  before I’m able to get out my skillet and beat him into submission quieting down.  Seriously though, thank dog for the two years of obedience as I’m able to put them both on down-stays in the kitchen so I can chat with the contractors throughout the house and they don’t need to be bugged by a cracker dog and a wiggly husky.

“Hey Princess, why does this feel like jail if the doors are all open?”
“At least its the kitchen. Shut yur yapper. Maybe I’ll get a treat for this.”

Our neighbors invited us for coffee last Sunday. They have three children, who speak FIVE freaking languages (while all I can say “bun chore”), that love dogs and they wanted to meet them. After coffee, we went to retrieve the dogs. Juno slipped her collar just outside the front door and ran for the street. Thank Dog for obedience once again. Juno come! She flipped around and came right back to us for her no-slip collar. Juno greeted them with proper wiggles and wags, while Loki greeted them with barks, then yips of excitement. Rules are rules and Loki had to wait until his yapper was closed before he got to go meet them officially up close.  Later, they both obliged the children with many tricks and proper behavior. The little girls seemed to fawn over Juno while the little boy seemed enchanted with Loki.

After a good long meet and greet, we came home to this:

Hmm… funny, I don’t remember leaving my shoes like this.

By now, Internet readers, you must think I let my dog destroy my shoes for pure Internet entertainment value. I mean, it happens so much, clearly I can’t be this dumb, right? Let me assure you, I’m not independently rich and cannot  afford to buy new shoes every time I have writer’s block.  Besides, it was Mr. Wild Dingo who left the bedroom door open and there isn’t a single closet in this house.  These are brand new shoes. I’m now down to 1 pair of sneakers and 2 pairs of flip flops. Seriously. I can’t go on like this.

“It looks much better with a little white in it to match my natural loveliness, don’t you think mom?”
Damn Sibe.

Mr. Wild Dingo pointed out that Juno was kind enough to leave me at least 2-intact shoes on either foot that I can wear:

I’m thinking I can claim that this is all the rage in the US. Besides, the Swiss are not exactly known for their fashion trendiness. They’ll never know!

In the mean time, Juno has taken to “the drink” to replace her need for shoe masticatory rages:

“So light! So refreshing! Just the thing one needs to wash down all that shoe leather.”

“I found these like this.”

All the rooms in this house have doors, including the living room and kitchen. We basically shut all the doors except the kitchen and “dog room” and leave them to the foyer, dog room and kitchen. Seems safe enough, right? Well, until Mr. Wild Dingo forgets to take his sunglasses off the window sill where the dogs love to watch us come and go.

“Nobody needs this many pairs of sunglasses mom. I’m helping Pop out here.”

“And this pair? Let’s just say I did him a huge favor here. The style is so five-minutes ago!”

To punish her, I took her and Loki on a long walk through the farms and vineyards. We got to see goats, donkeys and more horses. I got stung by a bee. Teaches me to punish a Sibe I guess.

Later, I rushed out of the house to go do some errands. The parking situation completely stressed me out. There’s more room to park a Hummer in a pack of sardines than there is to park a Smartcar in a Swiss parking spot. If I gain 3 more pounds I won’t be able to get out of any parked car in Switzerland. It took me 10 minutes to park in a spot, shuffling the car back and forth while a polite person behind me waited.

I came home completely exhausted from the ordeal. (O.K. so I’m jet lagged too. Anything is going to exhaust me.) And I came home to find this:

“Mom, I know you’re really upset that you can’t get the wireless router working so I let Linksys know how Siberians feel about technology that doesn’t work.”

Ooops. Looks like I forgot to shut one of the living room doors (there are two).  Sadly, this is not her first Suisse masticatory destruction/mischief. Her first mastication was with a bottle of T-9 bike lube in the basement. So now the nice cool basement is off limits to the Sibe.

I sure hope Mr. Wild Dingo doesn’t need to return that router.

“The unexamined book is not worth reading. But it sure is worth chewing.“

It’s true that I hadn’t really read the book and it was officially ‘unexamined.’  But I’m pretty sure Socrates didn’t say quite those words.

“Thou shall live to chew, not chew to live.”
“Princess, that’s deep!”

Hmmm. That sounds like Socrates, but I’m pretty sure that’s not quite right either.

“How about this:  Employ your time in improving yourself by other men’s writings, so that you shall gain easily what others have labored hard for. ”

Leave it to the Sibe to twist a great philosopher’s words to get her out of her masticatroy mischief.

“Princess,  are you sure he didn’t mean ‘reading’ other men’s writings, not ‘eating’ other men’s writings?”
“Doofus, the only true wisdom is in me knowing that you know nothing.”

Now she’s just showing off.

As I began to chew her out for her chew-out, she came back with sound Socratic logic:

“Get not your friends by bare compliments, but by giving them sensible tokens of your love.”

Don’t think that philosophy is going to get you out of the deep trouble you’re in young lady! Chewing my book is so not a token of love!

 ”Life contains but two tragedies.
One is not to get your heart’s desire; the other is to get it.”

 Well, at least she learned something.

“Nothing says “I missed you” like pillow entrails. I cared enough to shred the very best.”

I was in Luasanne, Switzerland house hunting for our move this past week. Loki and Juno’s personal chef, entertainer and companion kept me updated on how they handled being without me. “Loki and Juno are doing so well! They’re so well behaved,”  wrote Diane in her e-mails, “I’m going to miss them and I would love to come to Switzerland just to pet sit them!”

Um, sure Diane. And shredding pillows is considered “behaved” in what universe?  Are you sure you want to pet sit them again? Figures they saved the pillow mess just for me. Nobody ever believes me when I say these two are trouble.

“I had nothing to do with this Mom! Swear to dogs!”

Loki and Juno met Diane the week before I left and hit it off with her just fine. Loki even let her take his leash, something he never stands for when I’m around. Dog-forbid anyone but his Mom be attached to him. When Diane left, I warned her that Loki will definitely appear intimidating on her first day. “He’ll bark and act like a cracked-out Cujo ready to eat you,” I told her. “Oh I’m not intimidated by him,” Diane assured me. “He’s quite sweet.”  I smiled knowingly to myself.

Diane’s first email to me read something to the tune of: ”I must admit, I was quite apprehensive approaching the gate with Loki barking aggressively and was a bit intimidated.” Sigh. Do I know my cracker-dog or what?

Loki  has two greetings: Cracked-Out-Cujo, and “I’m your BEST friend in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD!”  By the 3rd visit, they were best pals and Diane wrote: “Loki and I are buddies. Period. He follows me everywhere and I can play with him quite roughly very confidently.” Sigh. Just as expected.

I’m not sure if Juno ever warmed up to her more than approaching her quickly then bouncing away, but at least she wasn’t rude enough to pull a Cujo on her.

I’ll have more later this week with photos from the trip and of the Wild Dingo Estate Abroad. Regardless of the pillow mess, it was great to be home among the endless kisses. 

In the mean time, which one looks guilty to you, Internet? Let me give you a hint. And another hint. And another hint. And, sigh, another hint.

“SHE started it mom!”
“I resent the biasness I am being treated with. Prior convictions have no bearing on this case.”

“These vet bills were mailed third class! I ain’t comin’ on that tab.”

Got it. But what’s the deal with going postal on the rest of the mail?

“I know. It looks like a first class disastor. But I have no idea how this happened. If I’m lyin’ I’m flyin’.” 

Um, Juno, by the looks of that propeller tail, you’re about to take off so that must mean …

“Look, I ain’t saying you’re wrong, but I ain’t saying you’re right either. Why don’t you bug ‘ole Motormouth back there with all your questions?”

Anticipating Juno’s accusations, Loki parked himself far away from the scene of the crime.

“I don’t know beans about this crime, Mom. My paws are clean!”

For the record Internet, I’ve left Loki home alone in the entire house many times, and have always come home to a neat and orderly home: nothing chewed, eaten or destroyed. Still, whenever Juno pulls this stunt, he keeps far away from the detsruction but acts remorseful as if he’s sorry for not being able to stop her naughtiness.

Sigh. Never a dull moment at Wild Dingo.

Seriously. Why should I be surprised? After all, she also ate my Mini-Cooper.

This time, I put my shoes away AND hid the trash can. I left my important identity file folder out on top of my desk because I need to renew my passport. She helped herself to the folder. When I got home, it looked like a thief ransacked my office and mud room. Folder mutilated, marriage certificate, crumpled. Guess she doesn’t think highly of my marriage to Mr. Wild Dingo.  And the passport? Well, lets just say its a good thing its up for renewal. Thankfully she left my very old and delicate birth certificate untouched. 

Do  you wonder why Siberians have “masks?” Because they are all criminals. And Mr. Wild Dingo and I are harboring one.  I have a sneaking suspicion she’s trying to make a fake ID to get into club Siberian 54.

“Unfortunately, this does not taste like chicken.”

Um, unfortunate for who, you furry felon?

For the record, my dingo, never ate passports, Mini-Coopers, shoes, mail or babies. I’m beginning to think that famous story had an unknown husky in it.

“What? I think I improved it.”

I have no idea how I’m going to tell the passport clerk, “the husky ate my passport” with a straight face. He’s totally going to stamp a big F on my passport renewal form and send me home with a note to my mother.

Damn Sibe.

“I’m a rescue dog. I rescue people from the over-commercialization of Christmas.”

 ”I had nothing to do with it.”

 ”There, there now Juno. I know how much you dislike it when they don’t have your size or color on the sale items.”

 Do you think kissing the alleged criminal is sending the wrong message?

 ”Really Pop, you didn’t need those bills and those holiday cards weren’t even for me. Insulting.”

“What you have here is a energy-saving, environmentally-friendly, paper shredder.”
“Princess, I don’t get it. This doesn’t even taste like chicken.”