The End of Dogs

The dogs are going to die. I am going to kill them. He got at my stash of yarn. And they played with it. And ripped it to shreds. Yarn was strewn from one end of the living room to the other. In bits. They never, repeat NEVER, go after my yarn. When I'm home. But I'm not home. I'm in California for the summer. And so they go for my yarn. And so they must die.