Our latest foster dog, Smokey, is quite the charmer. He’s a 9-year old weimaraner, but he’s still full of spunk. So much spunk, that earlier this week, he devoured a box of Easter chocolate and baked goods that Ben had received, including half of a $100 bill that was included in the card. Then last night, he decided to eat a hole in our duvet cover (while Ben was sitting in the living room!). I came home from the gym to find his handiwork – it’s almost a perfect circle. Pretty impressive, Mr. Smokes.Oh, Smokey. Or should we call him Houdini. A few weeks ago, I came home to find Smokey roaming around…after I had known for certain that he had been in his crate before Ben and I left. I went to check the crate – sure enough, the bottom closure was still securely fastened, but somehow he managed to get the top closure open and force his was out of the crate. And Smokes is not a gangly skinny thing like Nim – he is short and stout with a broad chest and strong legs. And, oh yeah – he has a gunshot wound to his front left leg, so he has a limp. That doesn’t stop him. I really wish we had a video of how he escaped from that cage – it’s mind boggling. Nimitz loves having Smokey around – I think the old man is Nim’s favorite foster brother. They love to play hard, run alongside the fence in the backyard, and afterwards, they love to cuddle and take a nap. It’s a sweet friendship. We love you, Smokes. But let’s stop this crazy destructive stuff, okay?