Bringing up boys - one dog at a time!

One boy and his dog...

"If that little bugger goes anywhere near my new boots!!"
I'll what? - Sell it after all?
Of course not.
They are as bad as each other. No blooming respect for anything.
Out the kitchen door, straight up the stairs and into the bedrooms. Slippers, socks, biros, teddies - nothing is sacred. He's been up on the table, in the dishwasher. He's stolen from the fridge and piddled on the carpet. Chewed two baskets and nearly given me a heart attack appearing from the laundry room with my knickers in his mouth
That puppy is worse than his mother, and I thought she was the ultimate Wicked Whippet. This one! Well, he is the devil incarnate, a diablo and not helped one iota by his new master.
Thick as thieves. One forever in search of the other.
I don't know whether to congratulate or kick myself.
You might have guessed but I finally gave in - he's got his dog.
I suppose it was kind of inevitable that I'd let him but I hope he never really knew that. I hope he felt that he has really earned his dog. It was certainly hard going.
I cannot count the times he 'lost' the dog for continually answering back, showing attitude. For lack of respect and thumping his brother.
But for all of those mistakes there were a thousand good ones in their place. Being kind to others, laying up the table, clearing up the dog mess without asking, and more than that for keeping on trying at school even though it never seemed as if there was any progress at all.
There he'd be struggling away with no reward; being knocked back countless times but still trying.
He's won the ultimate challenge. He kept his end of the bargain - just.
So I am keeping mine.
Another wicked whippet enters the annals - welcome to the pack - Jet Bag!