Lucille the lady dog

I live in a house full of boys.
We’ve got Adam the dad, Nate the big brother, Benny the baby brother and Sir Jack Nicholson the spoiled adult big baby dog.
Then there is me the mama and Lucille the sweetest lady dog in existence.
You would think that she would be my ally in this big boys club of a house.
For the most part we stand united.
Until this morning.
Let me begin by saying that it is the first night in over three weeks where I got a full and uninterrupted nights sleep.
I walk downstairs with a sort of pep in my step.
Then I reached the bottom of the stairs just to realize that there are a bunch of chewed up brushes all over the floor and dog beds.
Any good feeling that I had immediately dissipated and turned into pure rage.
My eyes began to dart through the room and I find Lucille in her pen looking so guilty.
I look at Sir Jack, who is currently very tense as he is usually the one to blame for such shenanigans.
I yell “Lucy, you have some explaining to do”, close the pen door and walk away, vacuum in hand.
This obviously wakes the baby and my day begins as it always does, in a hectic rush.