Dog is a Flurry of bills

Used couch, now shredded: $80

Cheap rug, now nibbled around the edges: $30

Chew toys: $100

Three destroyed Xbox controllers and power cord: $55 (if I'm lucky and feel like replacing them)

Trip to vet to discuss persistent chewing, doggie Prozac: $108

Replacement for munched MacBook screen: $350

New dryer hose: $9

New back door: Please let it be less than $100!

New stake for tying up very strong, large dog: $35

Doggie smile: Priceless? Hmm, there's gotta be a limit here!

The 10-month-old agent of all this destruction has four paws, velvety white fur, floppy ears, one blue eye and one brown eye, and a darling pink nose.

My new puppy's name should have given me a clue: Psycho.

"Psycho come here! Psycho! Now!" her former owner yelled as I pulled up in my Subaru to collect my new 60-pound bundle of joy. Wearing a tank top in the dead of winter, the young mother frantically tried to corral "Psycho" and keep an eye on her open front door at the same time. She looked overwhelmed for some reason.

Psycho played "can't catch me" for the next 10 minutes, her mismatched eyes dancing. Then I opened my car door and she leaped in, a tornado blur of soft white fur and enthusiasm.

I should have noticed the relief relaxing that young woman's shoulders when Psycho became mine. I should have listened when she said my new puppy hated being in a cage, but couldn't be out loose when home alone. The words "she has so much energy," should have tipped me off. Perhaps my puppy's unfriendly growl when I got in the car and reached over to pet her should have alerted me to the unpleasantness in store.

But no.

Instead I drove to Petco, bought a bag of treats and fed them to her one by one as I drove home - Psycho in the front passenger seat eyeing me suspiciously. She liked me by the end of the trip.

Perfect, I thought, and installed her in my household. My daughter renamed her Flurry.

That's when the disasters began.

In just a few weeks, Flurry figured out how to squeeze her kennel's lock mechanism between her jaws to spring herself from puppy jail.

I thought being confined to the cage just stressed her out, so I left her loose in the house. She shredded my couch forthwith. I removed the cushions when I left the house. She promptly chewed the frame. My daughter left my MacBook out, against my explicit instructions. Flurry chewed the MacBook. My daughter left her XBox and controllers where Flurry could reach them. That was a mistake, too.

I took her to her veterinarian, who diagnosed her with an actual mental disorder - separation anxiety. He prescribed medication and I began doping my dog and ignoring her drama when I arrived home.

I'd like to say we made progress, but maybe I imagined it.

The day Flurry climbed behind the washing machine and dryer to chew on the dryer hose was the last time I left her inside during my absence. Luckily I have a big backyard and the winter turned mild, so I turned her out when I went to work. Of course, Flurry then pocked the dirt in my yard with her digging, tore apart my back door and figured out how to climb over our 4-foot-high chain link fence. (Amazing! Have you ever seen a dog scale a fence?)

I staked her out in the middle of the backyard, where she stays now when I am gone. She hates it, and I'll probably have to buy one of those electronic bark collars to keep her from annoying the neighbors.

I put up with this not because I have the patience of Job, but because Flurry makes me happy when she's not making me miserable.

She curls up next to my feet at night and sometimes even snuggles up to my legs. She's delighted to see me whenever I get home (even though I have to ignore her until she calms down). I love stroking her velvety ears, and she makes me laugh when she chases her tail, squeaks her toys, or flings around her tattered stuffed animals - just for fun.

Just a few days ago we even had a breakthrough on our walks, which were previously more like strangles for her and wrestles for me. A few authoritative jerks and a swat or two with the leash and, hallelujah, we became a normal woman and dog out for a stroll.

Plus, she's adorable. I don't care if Jerome Pollos (a photographer here) thinks she looks like a giant lab rat.

So I'm sticking it out for now, but I'm going to run out of fix-it money soon. Let this serve as a warning when that time comes.

When you circle that ad, drive to my house and open your arms to that charming four-legged catastrophe, you probably won't notice the relief relaxing my shoulders. You'll probably ignore the stuffing spilling from my couch cushions and the fabric torn from the couch frame. You might even ignore her name.

You'll get stuck on winning her doggie love. The way she snuffles your ears will make your heart glad. You'll enjoy stroking those soft, soft ears. She will make you smile, and then she'll make you laugh.

That's when the trouble will start.

Lucy Dukes edits special sections and the North Idaho Business Journal at the Coeur d'Alene Press. She can be reached at (208) 664-8176, Ext. 1111 or ldukes@cdapress.com.