beaver is furious.

Usually when we go away for the weekend, beaver loves it. He can eat when he wants, play when he wants, sleep when he wants – with an entire house at his disposal, beaver roams, wallowing in his freedom.

Unfortunately, this past weekend, while we were in North Carolina, beaver decided he did not want to be home by himself. He did not want to build a nest out of paper, did not want to pick the back door lock to get at the fence around the patio, did not want to tease the neighbor’s fat dachshund through the wall, or any of his other usual leisure activities.

He decided, instead, he wanted to be in North Carolina. We know this because when we arrived home Sunday night, the house was a wreck. The destruction was widespread – part of the butcher block counter in the kitchen had been chewed off. Clothes were heaped in clumps and scattered on the floor. A giant piece of the ledge under the TV was covered in teeth marks. All wooden buttons off our clothes had been pried off, one by one, and systematically devoured. Our wooden coasters were scattered, each gnawed into a different shape.

After the initial shock, we spent the rest of the evening sorting out the mess while attempting to console beaver, who sat crouched in a corner with his back to us. Every now and then, his tail would twitch contemptuously. It was only by apologizing profusely and promising him the choicest pieces of the leftover lumber from the basement that we managed to get beaver to calm down and have some water.

the senoritas

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