I Think I Need a Lawyer

Well everydog, at risk of tarnishing my good reputation, I am confessing that today I did something bad. Mom was not too pleased with me when she got home today. Here is the evidence:

Exhibit A: Chewed up wooden cat figurine Grandma brought Mom from Costa Rica

Mom tried to reassemble it as best she could so she could show you what it's used to look like (pre-dog mauling). Unfortunately, she couldn't figure out where many of the fragments fit, since I'd done such a thorough job of dismembering it.

Exhibit B: Scratches on the old record cabinet Mom got from my Great-Grandma.

Exhibit C: Note the many, many toys (including the lightbulb in the middle, which was filled with treats) that Mom left me to play with and keep me busy and happy.

Mom also had my radio on for me, as usual, to keep me company while she was gone (always set to NPR - makes a dog think).

I have never, ever destroyed anything before. Ever. I am not a chewer. I NEVER try and chew on anything that isn't mine, and I rarely do much chewing on my own toys for that matter (ignore the fact that my Lambie has no ears in the above picture). Now, I will admit that I have created some scratches on some wooden furniture before. But that's it. That has been the extent of my destruction.

My Plea: Not Guilty, by reason of mental defect (and ridiculous cuteness). I have diagnosed myself with Specific Phobia, Natural Environment Type. Specifically, Ceraunophobia. In lay terms, I am afraid of...

THUNDER!!!! *shudder*

(Mom says that the Diagnostic and Statisitical Manual is not intended for diagnosis of canine anxiety and that one should not self-diagnose, but whatever.)

Mom and Dad got me a year ago this month, and I never showed any fear at all about thunder up until a couple of months ago. We had a really, really nasty storm come through while Mom and Dad were out. I mean, it was bad. There was bad flooding in some areas and Mom and the cats and I ended up hiding out in the bathroom later that night due to a tornado warning (Dad was at work). Mom came home earlier that day and found her laptop pushed off the desk onto the chair, papers strewn everywhere, miscellaneous desk items either fallen or falling off the desk, and scratches on the desk top. It seems that I just freaked out. Ever since then I get scared when there's thunder. And we have had a lot of it this spring and summer! Mom and Dad ignore my pleas for comfort and help when I'm scared. They say it's because they want me to be a big boy and learn that I don't have to be scared, but I just can't help it! I guess I'm traumatized from that one awful storm!

Okay jury, time to deliberate. Bad Dog or poor, traumatized (yet adorable) dog with a genuine diagnosis that excuses me from responsibility?

Here is a sad, pathetic picture of me to sway you, *ahem*, I mean, uh... for no reason whatsoever.

(P.S. Mom doesn't think I actually ingested any of the wood. Mom called the vet to ask what she should do in case I did, and she and Dad are keeping their eyes on me to make sure I'm okay.)