Yep, that's Seamus, hanging with Clifford.

Meaghan Connaire from Corporate Communications has a gorgeous dog we all love to hear about. But then she told us this story, about his penchant for eating books. Yikes! Take it away, Meaghan!

I have a very cute, very sweet, very hungry black lab mix puppy named Seamus. Check him out, he’s been featured on OOM before. He’s a great guy, except for one thing — he is intent on destroying all of my books.

It’s partially my fault. I have a lot of books and not enough bookshelves. Books are scattered everywhere in my apartment, so I can see how Seamus can lose control. It’s just too tempting.

Books have been moved to higher shelves and locked in my bedroom. I have put up gates and blocked off shelves. I am well aware that his need to chomp on books is driven by separation anxiety, and while crating would prevent him from chewing on my belongings, it doesn’t fix the anxiety. As a dog owner, I would rather fix the actual problem than save the books.

So, I have allowed the little pup to be out after blocking off everything as best as I can, and slowly but surely, Seamus’ book consumption has gone down.

Until the other day.

I absent-mindedly left my dog-eared copy of Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger (complete with whiney high school musings in the margins and inside covers) and a doodle-covered A Light in the Attic by Shel Silverstein on the side table in the living room.

When I came home from work that night…well, it wasn’t a pretty sight. Those near-and-dear books appeared to be goners.

My first thought, after crying out, “NOOOOO, SEAMUS!!” was, “He better not have ripped up Something Missing!” (It was my favorite poem as a child.) My second, upon seeing the murdered Nine Stories, was, “Oh no! There go all my thoughts about my high school crushes.”

I picked up the tattered pieces, felt my heart get a little heavy, and saw the little guy in the corner, wagging his tail, trying to fight back the desire to jump all over me and greet me properly. Even he knew I needed a moment to mourn.

I gathered up the mess and saw the books could be somewhat salvaged. Sure, they had bite marks everywhere and their covers were torn off, but the cores remained and that was good enough for me. I could still see my doodles from many years ago and I could still make out those silly high school thoughts.

Then I realized, when the time comes to say goodbye to this silly dog of mine (a thousand years from now), I will be able to look at these tattered messes, see the marks and rips, and fondly remember his penchant for eating books.

However, I’m still going to hide my books. He might end up chewing up my very first copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, and I can’t have that.

Do you have any horror stories about your pets destroying your books?