I look around and try to make sense of this picture. The floor is strewn with particles of bark, shredded paper towel, rubber balls, and other toys. Tabletops hold an accumulation of shoes and other objects placed hastily out of range.
Chairs are askew.
Our living room, which two weeks ago reflected a serene orderliness, has turned into a puppy playroom. It was our older daughter who brought him home from the animal shelter - a small sack of soft black draped guilelessly over her shoulder. His dark eyes, gleaming with gentle innocence, gave him instant appeal. This was prophetic, for Frode is the Norse god of mischief. It starts with sharp barking around 5 a.m.