I Should Listen More

I have been given some brilliant advice in the past about what to do about my "problem" children, a.k.a. "those with fur." I just don't listen.
This is a play by play
Friday night and Marc takes Chase to his race. Saige goes with Lisa and her kids to a football game. I go out to dinner with friends.
It's a lovely dinner.
When we're getting ready to leave I check my phone. Missed calls. A txt from Saige saying, "I think I want to come home."
(Meanwhile back at home)
Marc and Chase pull up in the driveway, they had a good but trying night. There were some mechanical problems with Chase's go kart. It's been a long week for Marc. They're tired. Marc looks at Chase and says, "Don't you love to be home buddy." Chase shakes his sweet little head yes. Marc get's out of the car and starts to get a few things, Chase goes in through the garage, opens the mudroom door. Closes it. He says to Marc, "You don't even want to go in there."
So at this point, I'm looking at my phone, deciding whether to txt Saige or call Lisa and my phone rings. It's Marc with a voice of doom on. "If you walked in house right now you would have a nervous breakdown." I was so confused, it was house cleaning day. Which is one of my happy days. Everything is as close to perfect as it can be. "Why? What's wrong?" Even as I ask it I feel like just hanging up the phone. Do I really want to know? It's like when something smells bad and you say, "Hey, smell this." No one wants to smell and I didn't want to know what had happened that was going to push me over that extremely fine wire I walk on to the other side called crazy.
He said, "Lucy's done the worst thing she's ever done." Man, that can't be good. Lucy just ate a full chicken carcass the other night. A couple Saturdays ago she shredded an entire box of shredded wheat all over my kitchen, like a bomb had hit. Previous to that she has snarfed down a box of Lucky Charms and puked up green and yellow all over my freshly cleaned carpets. What now? Seriously, what else can she do? He starts to explain but it's loud and I can't hear him and Saige is calling through on the other line. I go pick up Saige. I'm on the phone with Lisa in the car crying the blues about my dogs. She offers to poison them for me. I briefly consider it. Pick up Saige. Go home.
We walk in and can see something has gone on, we're just not sure what. Although the place has been cleaned it looks like CSI was here dusting for prints. There is an odd powder in some strange places. We go upstairs and get the rundown. Apparently she had gotten a box of something along the lines of Bisquick and dragged it all through the downstairs. Then she pulled out every plastic container in the bottom cabinet and tossed those around. She and Mickey stepped in the Bisquick/powder type stuff and pranced around until it looked like it had snowed.
I was wishing she had just tossed the trash like on a normal night, back in the good old days.