Your dog: Gets into bathroom trash. Chews up (somehow a luxury item?) lady necessities. Possibly in front of relatives.

My dog: I come home after three hours, notice a makeup remover on floor. Suspiciously check bathroom to see if he got into trash bin.
Bin is gone.
Pause and triple check. Yep, no bin.
His latest thing is taking recycling into the back yard. Where the neighbors are.
Oh shit.
And the neighbors were cooking out when I left.
Shit shit mcshitty shit.
Follow a Kleenex to the dog door. Discover bin.
Lid is gone.
So is bag.
Shit shit shit.
Grab flashlight. Go outside. Oh look, the peel off backing of the aforementioned lady necessities.
Oh, here's a q-tip.
And a Kleenex.
And the liner bag, absolutely shredded. And peed upon. Oh, here's the lid, also peed upon. So that's delightful.
Can't find anything else. Also can't remember when I last emptied the trash. Either it was recent or Schmoop has eaten some very inedible stuff.
Hoping Schmoop didn't try presenting my lady business to his new love interest in the other side of the fence while the neighbors were watching.
May never leave house again.
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