Bad Puppies

Remember those cinnamon rolls I made?
Yeah, you already know where this story is going. Mostly.
Monday was the first day back to work and school after about two weeks.
I, of course, left the cinnamon rolls on the kitchen island in this nice personalized, lidded, Nordic Ware baking dish my friend AB gave me for Christmas a few years ago.
Samson took it off the island.
Transported it to the green room (which was only a few feet away at that point).
And waged an all out assault on the tin in a (fortunately) failed attempt to get the cinnamon rolls out.
He also, fortunately, didn't seem to hurt himself in the process.
Is it wrong that when Hubby called me with this report I was worried he was going to say they got the Silky Wool I've been swatching with for the Beth Brown-Reinsel class this weekend which I left on top of the dining room credenza?

Strong Puppy
Let us pause for a moment and contemplate the strength of Samson's jaws to do that kind of damage to a metal lid.
Especially considering he stood there so placidly when I grabbed his head and pulled his lips back in an attempt to check his teeth. (Well, he was fairly placid. He wasn't too happy about Baru snuffling his face while I had him sort of immobilized.)
It is unclear if the lid can be saved. It doesn't open quite right now. We might be able to use pliers to bend the lip back down, but that might look stupid. Well, the dish part seems unharmed at least.
You have to admire his determination. I was like "If he had gone at it from this angle he might have succeeded." Hubby said I sounded disappointed he failed. Well, if he had succeeded he might not have done so much damage to my tin! But all that sugar would have been bad for him, so it is just as well.

Inappropriate Pissing
While we're discussing puppy transgressions, let's not let Baru off the hook.
On the way home from Christmas, Samson had an, um, accident in the car. He seemed distressed by the situation and would probably die of embarrassment if he knew I told you, so don't mention it or call him a poopy puppy or anything if you see him. (His bad belly lasted for about two days, we don't know what caused it, but he's fine now.)
Anyway, I washed the blanket in warm water with bleach for colors, but apparently didn't get all the odor out. I folded it and put it on the floor in the basement.
When I was doing laundry over the weekend Baru came down, sniffed the blanket intently for a few minutes, then walked over and started peeing on a pile of dirty sheets!
I shrieked and swatted him with a pair of Hubby's boxers (hey, it's what I had in my hand) and sent him scurrying for cover.
Cheeky little fur ball.
Oh, and that's not only time. Just before Christmas, I guess I wasn't letting them out enough one evening, because I got up to put the kettle on and heard running water in the green room.
Need I remind you there is not faucet in the green room?
So I when shrieking in there to see what was going on. But instead of stopping, Baru took a few steps toward the door—peeing on my favorite leather shoes in the process!
The one bright spot is he was on this big black mat we keep in front of the door to catch any debris they track in.
I had to yell for Hubby to help me (he was on the phone with his dad) because the mat is too big for me to lift without spilling the stuff. The sad part is, it was kind of beading up and if I had grabbed some paper towels I might have been able to soak it up, but my main concern was for my shoes and that it not soak through to the good carpet.
So the mat is out on the back porch now, covered in snow.
sigh.