My dog’s name is Kelty. He is known to eat socks. Literally eat socks. Not just chew holes in them, but actually devour the fabric.
He also eats other underwear, baby clothes, and anything that smells and tastes dirty or like baby formula.
This is Kelty:
We have several nicknames for Kelty. One of them is “Fats,” because he just is. Another is “Welty” or “Welts.”
I complain bitterly about the things he destroys, but I complain the most about my lost socks. I have no matching socks left, and wearing mismatched socks makes me a little sad — though I have come to accept my fate. To ease the pain a little Angie bought new socks for me, to replace those that Welts had devastated with his insatiable appetite.
Read the label. I’m not sure these socks are going to last too long, or at least the lycra bits won’t.
Somehow I knew it was only a matter of time before the importance of waffles became apparent to a wider audience.