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The chewed chair pad is the last straw. Lesli had been working in her office during the morning. She went out, and I went upstairs. I sniffed the chair pad...and I had to have it. I couldn't stop. I was out of control.
When she came home, I acted normal. Then she went upstairs. She didn't yell, she didn't make a sound. But I knew she'd find the chair pad. So I hopped onto the couch, and got ready. When she came into the living room, I wagged my tail as fast as I could, plastered my ears to my head and tried to look as cute and helpless as possible.
I don't know how to stop eating the crotches out of things.
Countless pairs of underwear and pants have paid the price.
I can de-crotch a pair of underwear in seconds. I am stealth. You can try to hide them. But I will prevail.
It's not just underwear. Many, many pairs of flannel pyjama pants in our household have lost their crotches. Workout pants. Any pants, really. You wear 'em, I eat 'em.
I'll even chew the facecloth someone uses to wash with.
I can't stop myself.
I need help.
I just can't explain it.
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